


come get your honey.

by winterwinterwinter



Category: Fargo (TV)
Genre: Ficlet Collection, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Trans Male Character, absolute filth
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:02:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 36
Words: 36,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24565069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterwinterwinter/pseuds/winterwinterwinter
Summary: i got your honey, baby. complete and utter filth.
Relationships: Mr. Numbers/Mr. Wrench (Fargo)
Comments: 37
Kudos: 42





	1. explicit: riding.

**Author's Note:**

> most of these fics are explicit. almost all of them feature numbers as a trans man in sexual situations with his cis male partner wrench. the language is fairly explicit in regards to his genitalia - using words like “cunt” and “hole” liberally and interchangeably. spiritual follow-up to my other collections of filth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one is straightforward.

_ look at you. you take it so well. _

numbers gasped as he finally took the last inch. he was fully seated on wrench’s lap now, and wrench was looking at him with heavy eyes, eyes full of love, adoration. it made numbers’s skin prickle.

_ being that wet has to help, _ wrench said.  _ so wet, aren’t you?  _ it was positively sinful to watch wrench’s hands say those things to him.

numbers nodded. wrench let one of his hands wander down to numbers’s cunt, where he was stretched around wrench’s cock. he traced his fingers along his rough, rosy folds before rubbing his thumb along numbers’s cock for just a moment. numbers trembled on him.  _ so good, pretty boy, _ wrench said.  _ show me what you got. _ he set his hands on numbers’s thighs, spread over his lap, and slid them up until they sat on his hips. numbers took a deep breath, and raised himself up. he leaned into wrench’s familiar, perfect mouth, and with a kiss he was off to the races.


	2. explicit: vibrator.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one features a sex toy. i think they’re a little young. mid-20’s.

the vibrator buzzed to life in his hand once he pressed the button. he grinned, feeling it buzz against his palm. he turned to numbers, who was lounging on the bed, his cheeks all red.

_ does it make a noise? _ wrench said with the vibrator tucked under his arm, almost tickling his ribs.

_ yeah, _ numbers said. he scrunched his nose up a little bit, cocking his head.  _ it sounds how it feels. _

in an abstract way, wrench could imagine it, that the buzzing might make such a sound to accompany itself. he knelt on the bed. he touched numbers’s ankle and his legs fell open in response, and there he was, soft and pink and glistening and covered in so much fucking hair.

_ i never get tired of this, _ wrench said before running his fingers against numbers's. balancing the happily buzzing vibrator on his thigh, he used both thumbs to spread him so that he could get a nice look - so shiny, so wet.

he watched numbers laugh, his belly trembling, adorable.  _ i know you don’t, _ he said.  _ you’re always begging for my hole. _

wrench very gently touched the vibrator against numbers’s cock and watched his entire body loosen, one hand gripping the sheets. wrench rubbed the vibrator against numbers’s cunt, half-heartedly coating the tip in his slick, watching the shiny blue plastic slide between his lovely, blushing lips. numbers was covering his own face with one hand and his mouth was moving - he was probably cursing at the ceiling.

wrench pressed the vibrator against his hole and watched it sink in. he laid a palm on numbers, between his chest and his belly. he was shaking. wrench started pumping it in and out of him, slow and steady. numbers’s mouth fell open and he arched his back - he took his hand from his face.  _ how many? _ he managed, his hands simultaneously too loose and too tense. wrench read him just fine.

_ depends _ , he said, leaving the vibrator to buzz  _ just  _ inside numbers while he talked,  _ just be good and take everything i give you. _

he leaned in and kissed numbers, slow and sloppy. and when numbers broke their kiss by yelping because wrench pressed the button again, kicking the vibrator up to the next setting, wrench kissed his lovely neck instead.


	3. explicit: sex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one is straightforward.

“deeper,” numbers mumbled, “fuck, you know i want it deeper.”

wrench couldn’t hear him, no shit. wrench couldn’t even  _ see _ him - at least, not at the moment. wrench’s eyes were closed and he kept huffing. his face was so red, he looked so good, fucking numbers with so much effort. he looked like he was enjoying it.  _ no, _ numbers thought smugly,  _ he  is enjoying it. _

numbers’s legs were slung over wrench’s shoulders, his knees nearly touching his ears. he was folded up tight. he liked it this way - to be fair, he liked it every way wrench was willing to give it. but he liked how small it made him feel, small in the _right_ way. not small like his hands weren’t big enough and his shoulders weren’t broad enough. small like… “oh, shit,” numbers whined.

he reached and put a hand on wrench’s ass and fuck, he swore he nearly passed out, feeling wrench's strong hips pistoning against him. he used his other hand to caress wrench’s cheek and guide him into a kiss, hot and open-mouthed.


	4. explicit: sexting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one is silly! they’re a little young and silly.

_ so you’re all wet? _

_ dripping _

_ show me ;) _

numbers laughed. that dumb son of a bitch loved smiley faces. he took his hand out of his boxers and finally shoved them down and off his body. it took a bit of maneuvering, but he managed to get an okay shot of his cunt. he sent it off to wrench with a message attached:  _ now show me yours. _

moments later his phone buzzed in his hand again. he flipped it open and was greeted by a well-lit picture of wrench’s handsome, perfect cock. he had a hand around it, and he was hard and flush and - god, perfect. numbers grinned.

his phone buzzed with another message:  _ you look good enough to eat _

_ so do you _

_ id pull you on top of me and have you sit on my face and you could suck on me all you want _

numbers, stroking his cock and teasing his cunt with his other hand, groaned and arched into his own fingers.

it took a minute, but he managed to type out a reply with one hand.  _ i’d kill to ride your face & drool on ur cock right abt now, _ he said.

_ cant wait to be home so i can lock u in our room and make you cum a hundred times _

numbers grinned. he knew that when wrench got home, all he’d want would be numbers’s arms around him and a nice, warm shower. but it was nice to pretend.

_ i want your cum in me, _ he replied, feeling only a little ridiculous. he knew that later, once he’d come down from the high of arousal and read the texts again, he’d cringe. but for now he was wound up and horny as fuck.

numbers reached over to his nightstand and fumbled with the drawer. he felt around and found the smaller of their two vibrators.

he waited a moment, but no reply came, and so he cast his phone aside and closed his eyes. as he rubbed the silent vibrator on himself, he imagined wrench’s tongue on him, he imagined wrench’s dick in his mouth. he had plenty of memories, plenty of remembered sensations, but memories were no match for the real thing, of course. his fingers were no match for wrench’s long, elegant fingers. his thumb, much too pedestrian, was no match for wrench’s. he felt far too cold laying in their bed alone, and he missed the sound of wrench breathing, the sound of his hands signing, the way they slapped against each other -

his phone vibrated next to him. he dropped the vibrator and grabbed the phone, flipping it open. he was greeted by a short video of wrench jerking himself off. “ah,” numbers gasped, watching with rapt attention. he watched as wrench came, mouth watering at the sight of it cascading down the side of his cock, and felt his heart flutter fondly at the soft, familiar grunt that came from his phone.

_ plenty here for you _ , the accompanying message read.


	5. explicit: sex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is straightforward. mid-20’s.

wes was such a sweet, tender lover. patient and attentive. kind. always tending to grady’s wants and desires. but sometimes grady just  _ needed _ it.

grady woke up horny, which wasn’t unusual. it didn’t take long to convince wes - a little kissing and a bit of groping and some rutting went a long way - and soon enough he was bent over the side of their bed, and wes was fingering him, getting him ready for it, not that he _needed_ to be prepared like that. and then, with a hard thrust, he was in.

wes liked missionary most of all. he was a simple boy and he liked to watch grady the whole time, liked to watch him cry and moan and come. which was fine - it was good, it was more than good. but sometimes grady needed it - needed it a little rough, a little aggressive. he liked the sound of their skin slapping together, he liked wes’s hands bruising his hips with their strong grip. it felt a little animalistic, a little base, dirty, depraved -

the only downside was that he couldn’t see wes’s hand fanning out across his face as he signed  _ pretty boy. _ he couldn’t watch wes call him a little slut, a sweet whore, his prettiest boy. wes couldn’t talk to him like this, so he had to do it for himself.

“you - ah!” grady gasped. “you dirty boy, letting him fuck you like this - so dirty - you should be punished.” he whimpered, thinking of it, and suddenly he wanted it, and if he wanted it then he had to have it. he reached back and patted at his own ass, trying to get the point across.

wes, of course, knew exactly what he wanted. one of his hands left grady’s hips and a moment later, his palm was coming down on grady’s ass, the clap of skin against skin making grady jump.

“yesss,” grady whined, “god, yes.” he waved a hand in a vague way, trying to say that he wanted more,  _ more _ -

and he got more. wes spanked him again and again. little tears pooled in his eyes, and he told himself “this is what you get, this is what you deserve, you wet slut.”

suddenly wes was pressing his front against grady’s back, and he was wrapping his arms around grady’s middle, and grady knew he was about to blow. he nearly slammed him against the mattress, and there it was: wes grunting softly in his ear and riding out his orgasm.

his hips stilled, and he stood there a moment, pressed against grady, just _there_ inside him. grady purred when he felt wes’s fingers on his cock, and he couldn’t help but laugh a little self-consciously when wes pulled out and rolled him onto his back.

they traded smiles - wes’s a little worn, grady’s bright - and held each other’s eyes as wes dropped to his knees.


	6. explicit: birthday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is silly. younger, stupider.

wes’s birthday was grady’s favorite day of the year.

grady was attempting a cake. it was going fine, so far - no eggshells in the batter and it got into the oven without incident. so he was just sitting on the couch, sans trousers, sans underwear, trying to snap a good picture of his snatch.

“come on,” grady mumbled. he settled deeper into the couch and pulled at his cock a little more. he was trying to get a little wet, make himself look real good and ready. he slid his fingers around again, playing around, messing around. “okay.”

he pulled the skin back and positioned his phone, and with a click it was done. “oh, sick,” he said, looking at it. looked real good, as far as he was concerned. wes would love it.

he sent it off with an accompanying message:  _ ready for your cake?? _

wes was on his way home from a job. nothing too hard, just an overnight deal, the kind of thing that was easy to do alone. last he’d heard, wes was leaving the motel, and that was an hour ago.

grady got up and put his boxers back on. he peeked in the oven - cake looked fine - and then he washed his hands. he checked his phone when he was done, and he saw a new picture text. he opened it and was greeted by a shot of wes’s perfect, rosy cock behind the wheel of their car. grady yelped with laughter.  


_ ready to ice it, _ the message read.

“corny ass,” grady mumbled through a delighted grin.

*

the cake didn’t come out too bad. a little dark around the edges, but it was easily covered by the pink icing and sprinkles. wes loved it. grady showed him as soon as he walked in the door, his boots all muddy, the shoulders of his jacket all wet from the rain. as soon as grady set down the cake, he scooped grady into his arms and twirled him around the room, and grady laughed.

they skipped dinner. they skipped the cake, though wes  _ was  _ excited for it. they went straight to presents, the most important of which was…

_ your choice, _ grady said. he sat naked on the edge of their bed.  _ you’re the birthday boy. _

wes dropped himself onto the bed beside grady and slapped at his own cheeks.  _ park yourself, _ he said.

grady flushed.  _ is that it? _ he said.

_ you know me, _ wes said.  _ you know what i like. it’s my birthday and all i want is you to ride my face. maybe i'll fuck you a little later. _

_ gotta ice your cake, _ grady said before he climbed on top of wes. he straddled his chest.  _ gotta keep your word. _

_ i will, _ wes said.  _ get up here! _

grady shuffled up the bed until he hovered right over wes’s face. this position always made him feel a little self-conscious, but god did he love looking down and seeing wes’s eyes peering up at him from between his thighs… _ happy birthday, _ grady managed to get in before wes tugged his hips down and immediately met him with his tongue.


	7. explicit: make up sex, size.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one is pretty normal. mid-twenties?

they were finally back together.

wes’s hair was clutched in grady’s fist. they were kissing, hard and desperate and so full of desire. it was their longest break up yet - six months. six months apart yet together, fucking other guys and living separately but standing side by side as they pumped some idiot full of lead. wes’s hands were on the small of grady’s back, so big so strong so familiar…

wes picked him up with ease, breaking their kiss. grady let out a high, delighted gasp, locking his legs around wes’s waist. they locked eyes and traded smiles and grady felt so good, so right, so happy to be in his arms again.

wes stumbled through grady’s dark apartment, making it to the sparse bedroom just fine. grady reached over his shoulder and flicked the light on right before wes dumped him on the mattress. grady bounced once he hit the bed, and he shimmied out of his jeans and struggled out of his shirt.

his shirt was off in time for him to watch wes take his tight-ass jeans off. and there it was, springing out of his boxers, wes’s cock. grady shivered in anticipation.

wes noticed his hungry stare. he hopped onto the bed.  _ miss it? _ he said.

grady nodded.

_ missed yours, _ wes said, reaching down and rubbing at grady’s, which was at attention.

_ not as much as i missed yours, _ grady said,  _ fucked a lot of guys that didn’t have half of what you have. _

wes grinned. he didn’t like knowing about the other guys grady fucked, but hearing that they weren’t shit compared to him was probably a fine salve.  _ yeah? _ he said.

_ lots of pencil dicks, _ grady said.

_ can’t compare? _

_ no, _ grady said.  _ not in the slightest. lots of guys don’t know how to work what they have. _

_ not me, though, _ wes said.

_ no. _

they made out a little bit more, and wes played with grady’s cunt and his nipples and he nipped his neck. and then wes was laying on his back, a pillow beneath his head, and grady was sitting on his lap, rocking his hips against wes’s cock, mentally preparing.

_ been so long, _ wes said. he stroked grady’s cheek for a fleeting moment. grady nodded against his hand.  _ missed you so much, baby. _

“missed you,” grady mumbled.

_ no one feels like you, _ wes said,  _ no one as tight and soft. _

grady grunted, feeling just a little shy. he could feel his cheeks heat up. he took wes’s cock in his hand, finally, and rubbed the head against his wet, wet cunt. wes’s head fell back a bit. grady’s other hand shot out and grabbed his face.

“look at me,” grady said, “you gotta watch me.”

wes licked his lips and nodded. his eyes were so big and so beautiful, looking at him. grady felt a little pang in his heart -  _ god, i missed you. _

grady began sinking down onto wes’s cock, then, and  _ jesus _ \- “jesus,” he whined, “jesus, wesley.”

wes was smiling at him, a bit of well-earned cockiness in his eyes.  _ better than those pencil dicks? _ he said.

grady let out a deep breath and nodded, nudging himself further down. it was familiar, of course - he and wes had so much sex together, after all - but still, it’d been six months. six months of little guys, skinny guys, guys that just wanted a warm mouth for their dick to come in -

_ you got it, _ wes said.  _ you can take it. you take it so good for me, remember? _

“i  _ know _ ,” grady howled, fully seated on wes’s lap. “you don’t have to tell me.” even though he loved the encouragement.

_ they didn’t give it to you right, _ wes said.  _ didn’t fuck you right. not the way you like it. can’t do it the way you like it with anything smaller. _ wes leaned up and kissed him, kissed him. he put his hands on grady’s hips and, perhaps a little too soon, perhaps before he was quite ready, he guided him up and back down, fluid, perfect, practiced. grady whined.

he didn’t last long on wes’s lap, so wes fucked him. laid him on his side and fucked him good, hard - nice and deep and way too much. wes couldn’t sign, so he sucked big, fat hickeys into grady’s neck that made him cry the way he always did, and things felt right again.

_ missed this most, _ wes said after, when grady was laying on his chest in his arms, absently rocking his hips against wes’s.

_ big softy, _ grady said.

_ you love me, _ wes said.

_ for some reason. _


	8. explicit: vibrator.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun with sex toys.

wes watched grady sob big, fat tears as he came for the third time, barely able to keep his grip on the slim vibrator that was buzzing away inside his cunt, the fingers of his other hand juddering against his cock. wes leaned down and peppered soft, gentle kisses up and down his neck as he cried and came. he slowed his thrusts for a moment, waiting for grady to stop trembling before he began again.

grady dropped the vibrator, letting it fall onto the mattress. once he’d calmed down, his breathing evening out, he raised his shaky hands to sign.  _ i can’t do it anymore, _ he said.  _ don’t make me. _ he looked so pretty laying there, his big, dark eyes shining with tears, his cheeks pink and giving his face a pleasant softness.

wes stroked grady’s face, rubbing his bottom lip. he wiped away a few stray tears. he kissed his bristly mustache.

_ you can, _ he said.  _ don’t cry. you can do it. _

wes gave a few gentle thrusts, revelling in the heat of grady’s ass, before he grabbed the vibrator and stroked it along his cunt, which was perhaps wetter than wes had ever seen it. grady twitched against it, twisting and sighing. wes pressed it back inside.


	9. explicit: vibrator.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more fun with more sex toys.

grady was, honest-to-god, drooling.

his head lolled back against wes’s shoulder, and he felt wes nuzzle him. he whined, weak and high-pitched. he felt his leg trembling, and his body was so hot and itchy, and then it hit him all at once - his second orgasm.

it was weaker than the first. he’d screamed that first time, literally unable to contain himself - between wes’s cock in his ass and the vibrator shoved up his cunt, and,  _ god _ , the little protruding arm of the vibrator that was pressed up against his dick, buzzing so hard and relentless against him… of course he screamed. thank god they were laid up in this cabin in the middle of nowhere, on the down-low but comfortable.

wes grunted behind him and bit his neck. he ripped the vibrator out of him and worked him through his orgasm himself, rubbing and tugging and massaging his cock. grady howled, feeling a little empty but still going wild at the sensation of wes’s rough, gentle hands on his genitalia, at how big wes felt inside him.

he came down fast. wes nudged him forward onto his knees, playing very gently with his overstimulated cock. the vibrator was still buzzing against the blankets. grady’s legs were weak, but he was able to keep himself up.

wes gave a few more thrusts into his ass before he suddenly pulled all the way out. grady sighed into the blankets under his face and wiggled his ass a little bit. he heard the snapping of plastic, and heard the condom smack wetly against the floor.

next he knew, wes was touching his hips with soft fingers, grabbing him carefully and shifting into position behind him. grady sucked in a breath and let out a long exhale as wes slid into him, fully replacing the vibrator. he hummed - nothing felt quite like wes’s cock in his cunt.

wes fucked him slow and steady, more for himself than for grady at this point. if grady came again, well, great, but he didn’t need to. it was enough to luxuriate in the sensations, in the feeling of wes, thick and perfect and familiar, fucking him.

wes pressed his chest against grady’s back, and his hips sped up and lost the slow and steady rhythm of before. another thrust and wes was pressing in as hard and deep as he could, groaning low and pathetic and so sweet. grady reached back and grasped wes’s hip, trying to keep him right there, as if he would ever move, and ah, grady could feel it inside him. grady sighed and shuddered.

wes held himself inside for a moment, giving a few fleeting thrusts before pulling out. he helped grady roll onto his back, and his entire body flinched when the vibrator tumbled through the blankets and tickled his knee. grady laughed at him, and he just laughed harder when wes glared at him after switching it off.

_ what’re you laughing at? _ he said.

_ nothing, _ grady said.

_ sure, _ wes said.  _ sure it’s nothing. _

grady winked and reached down to run his fingers along his cunt. he stroked his cock with one set of fingers and prodded at his hole with his other hand, grunting when he felt it, loose and sore and slick with wes’s come.

wes, smiling, leaned down and kissed at the little scars on grady's pelvis. grady pressed up against his mouth, and he travelled up grady’s belly and waist and chest.

finally he arrived at grady’s mouth and they kissed. wes tried to pull grady’s hands away from his cunt, but grady resisted.

_ get off my dick, baby, _ grady said. “jesus.”

wes wrinkled his nose and bit grady’s cheek - “ouch!”

_ can’t resist, _ wes said.

_ i don’t wanna come again, _ grady said.

_ sure you don’t, _ wes said.

grady stuck his tongue out, and wes darted forward and took his tongue between his lips. grady laughed, a strangled noise from the back of his throat, and wes let go.


	10. explicit: remote control.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more sex toys.

wrench pressed the button on the remote again as he walked up the stairs. he’d just sat through half an hour of a _m*a*s*h_ rerun, restlessly bouncing his leg the whole time. if he could hear, he probably wouldn’t have made it five minutes.

he peeked in their bedroom door, which was open just a crack. laying on his side in their bed was numbers, and he was trembling. his eyes were squeezed shut. his entire body was blushing, it seemed, and the white nylon ropes seemed to glow against his pink skin. his hair was all disheveled, and his forehead looked particularly sweaty. and there was the vibrator’s antenna, silicon-wrapped and smooth, sticking out of his cunt. wrench pressed the button again and watched the little blue light beneath the silicon flash as it responded, and numbers’s mouth fell open again, and he writhed on their bed, unable to do anything at all.

wrench’s breath caught as he watched him - _jesus,_ he was so cute like that, helpless. so completely unlike himself. wrench rubbed himself through his jeans and watched numbers cant his hips against the air, shaking. if only he could hear him, god, the pathetic noises he must be making - if just the  _ imagery _ was this good…

wrench hit the power button, and all at once numbers went still on their mattress.

wrench nudged the door open with his foot. numbers picked his head up and watched him as he sat beside numbers on the bed, and he saw that numbers was crying a little bit and, god. wrench  _ throbbed _ .

_ what’s wrong? _ wrench said.

numbers didn’t answer. he just looked up at wrench with those pretty tears in his eyes, huffing and puffing.

_ it’s okay, baby, _ wrench said before stroking numbers’s face. he rubbed his shoulder and his chest as chastely as he could.  _ don’t cry. _

he watched numbers speak. it looked like  _ fuck you _ .

wrench touched his cock, rubbing at it with his thumb. it was so soft and so hard, and feeling the perfect shape of it against his hand was so delightfully mundane. he delighted in their familiarity with each other, with the privilege he had in being with numbers every day. he slid his fingers down to numbers’s hole and felt how wet he was around the vibrator. he ran a finger up the protruding antenna.

wrench looked at numbers. he seemed to be back to normal, almost. still blushing but his breathing was steady and even. wrench smiled at him, and he hit the power button again, and quick as a whip, as soon as the little blue light at the tip of the antenna flashed, wrench was mashing the buttons until he hit the highest, most powerful setting, and numbers was writhing again.


	11. explicit: oral.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some mischievous wrench.

the call for the new assignment came in on a slow tuesday, in the morning. numbers was lounging in their bedroom, awash with golden sunlight, half-dressed with his guitar and a magazine when his cellphone started chiming away. he flipped it open and accepted the call.

“goldstein,” he said.

“mr. goldstein,” there was the voice of miss lundqvist, the young secretary. “how are you this morning.”

“fine,” he said.

“mr. carlyle for you.”

“thanks.”

as he was patched through to mr. carlyle, wrench walked through their bedroom door. his hair was still mussed and messy from sleep and he hadn’t thrown on a shirt yet, not that numbers was complaining. he laid back on their bed, admiring wrench’s handsome chest with its fine hair. there was a look in wrench’s eye that he only noticed when wrench dropped to his knees at the foot of the bed, right in front of numbers.

“goldstein,” carlyle said, his voice distorted through the phone.

“carlyle,” numbers said.

“new assignment for you two. right from the top,” he said.

“well, where else would it come from, carlyle?” numbers said. he couldn't resist being a little snarky, especially with mr. carlyle. he felt wrench’s hands on his thighs, his thumbs stroking circles on him. he relaxed, a tenseness he hadn’t even noticed leaving him. it felt nice.

“ha, of course,” he said humorlessly. “anyway, bit of a drive this time.”

“yeah? where to?” numbers lifted himself up on an elbow, brows knit as he looked at wrench kneeling before him. wrench had started tugging his boxers down his legs. he balanced the phone between his cheek and shoulder and waved a hand.  _ fuck are you doing? _ he mouthed at wrench once he’d caught his attention. he gestured toward the phone against his face.

wrench winked up at him and leaned in, nuzzling his pubes and pressing a little kiss to his cock.

_ now? _ numbers said.

wrench shrugged and dipped his head, tugging numbers’s underwear down the rest of the way and working his tongue between his folds. numbers tipped his head back, catching the phone in his hand and biting his lip.

“goldstein?”

“yeah?” numbers said, hyper aware of the sound of his voice as wrench worked him. it didn’t sound bad to him, not out of place - not too breathy, not too high…

“did you hear me?”

“can you repeat yourself, carlyle. sorry.”

“colorado. just outside boulder. guy’s on a bit of a tear, his name is…”

numbers slapped a hand over his mouth and groaned. wrench was running his tongue up and down numbers’s cunt, his thumb pressing gently against his hole.

“what’s his name?” numbers said, chancing it even though wrench was still licking him, his thumb rubbing his hole over and over. he heard himself - his voice was a little high, a little reedy.  


“thurman, i said, earl thurman - are you listening?”

“yeah, yes, i’m listening…”

wrench was sucking him off now. his mouth was so wet, it was like he was drooling over it, like it got him off to get numbers off, which only made numbers… he bit down on his thumb.

“so. trip says to get drop him off on the way back. ice, bury him, whatever. but make sure he’s properly taken care of.”

“okay,” numbers said. wrench had pressed his thumb  _ just  _ inside him, just enough that he would feel it and want it and think about it… wrench licked him harder, more insistently, faster, like he was hungry for it. no, numbers knew he was hungry for it. the amount of time he spent between numbers’s legs was ridiculous - the idea that he found so much pleasure in laying between numbers’s thighs and licking him to his heart’s content made waves of arousal ring through numbers’s body.

“don’t make a scene. this one isn’t that kind of thing. he’s just late on his pay.”

“yeah?” numbers managed to sputter.

“file will be waiting for you here tomorrow.”

“alright!”

“good?”

“fine!” he managed, a little forceful. “goodbye!” and he slapped the phone closed before he even heard mr. carlyle say anything.

numbers threw the phone up toward the pillows and let out a loud, rumbling groan. wrench was sucking on him again, his cock pulsating against his tongue, and his whole thumb was inside him now. numbers whined. “wes, you asshole,” he panted. “you, god…” he pressed up into wrench’s mouth and wrench took it - didn’t push him back down onto the bed or anything. he just  _ took _ .

numbers tugged violently at wrench’s hair. wrench pulled away from his cunt with a final, strong suck on numbers’s cock that had his eyes rolling back in his head. wrench rested his head against numbers’s thigh. the pad of his thumb laid against his hole. he looked up at him and raised an eyebrow. numbers noticed but ignored how wrench’s upper lip and chin were so wet and shiny.

_finish what you started, cowboy,_ numbers said.

wrench grinned up at him.


	12. explicit: strap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is legitimately the filthiest thing i've ever written.
> 
> more sex toys.

wes was fucking beautiful.

grady knew, of course. of course he knew - he’d known all his life. everything about him - his hair his eyes his skin his nose his smile his belly his _everything_ \- was beautiful. but, fuck, hovering over him, his hands splayed on the mattress either side of wes’s head, giving it to him nice and hard and deep… he was so fucking beautiful.

he looked _good_ taking it. his eyelids fluttered and he bit his lip all sexy and his cheeks were all pink. grady knew he looked like a dumbass when wes fucked him - they did it in front of a mirror once and grady was so self-conscious he almost didn’t come. wes, of course, had reassured him, told him how “fucking sexy” he was on his cock, and _duh_ wes thought he was sexy, wes fucked him on the regular and was always calling him beautiful and kissing him and loving him. of course wes thought he was sexy. but grady _knew_ he wasn’t, knew he looked like a mess when he took it. but wes - jesus, wes -

the first time grady gave it to him with his big plastic dick he’d been astounded. wes had been guiding him through it, telling him how to roll his hips, when to do this and that, because grady had never had a cock to fuck anyone with and he wasn’t quite sure how to move, how to  _ give _ . but he got the hang of it soon enough and wes’s hands fell useless at his sides and all he could do was grab the sheets of their bed and whimper. he was completely untethered, completely lost, a version of himself grady had barely ever seen before. and it was so aggressively sexy, seeing his big tough boyfriend, the guy that gave and gave and gave to grady, the guy grady’d known all his life, lose himself like that.

“baby,” grady managed to gasp. wes’s eyes were squeezed shut, and he was making a soft little noise and clutching at the sheet above his head. “you look like a fucking, ah, fucking angel, baby. you’re so tight, you feel so good, i can’t wait to see you come, wes.”

it was all for himself, of course. wes wasn’t watching his mouth, and even if he was he probably wouldn’t have any idea what grady just said to him. about him. and dirty talk was more grady’s thing, anyway, for his own pleasure and his own entertainment.

grady could tell he was close. he was taking fast, shallow breaths, and his neck was getting redder, and his eyelids kept fluttering, and he was arching ever-so-slightly. grady felt a bit of sweat rolling down his back, and for a moment he leaned in close so he could suck on wes’s neck. that was wes’s favorite, getting kissed all up and down his neck.

“i love you,” grady mumbled against his neck. “i love you, i love you. you feel so good, you take me so well, fuck.” it was then that wes’s free hand reached and grasped his ass and grady knew he was about to blow - when they’d started all this strap-on shit wes had admitted that he liked to feel his partners driving into him that way, especially when he was close.

_ turns me on, _ he’d said, almost sheepish,  _ feeling a guy's hips working like that for me. _

grady pulled back and didn’t relent, slamming into him again and again and again until he gasped and his body went rigid, coming hands-free across his own stomach. grady watched, rapt, slowing his hips but not stilling. if he stopped, wes would give him shit after. he watched him come, and how lovely it was against his blushing skin. he was breathing so heavy, working hard to catch his breath, and he was shuddering just so.

grady kept rocking in and out of him, slow and steady. he rubbed a thumb against one of his pretty pink nipples and he twitched beneath him. his eyes opened, then, and their eyes met.

_ beautiful _ , grady said.

wes smiled a breathless smile, and with hands that looked so weighed down, he said  _ you really know how to work that thing. _

grady pulled out inch by inch. he sat back once his strap was free of wes’s ass and reached out to gently press his thumb against wes’s worn hole. wes sighed as he did so, flinching away, but grady was insistent.

with his other hand grady slid underneath his harness and ran his fingers through his cunt and felt himself, hot and wet. that was the only thing - none of the pleasure for himself. not that he minded at all. he wasn’t  _ that  _ selfish. it was just that watching wes take it made grady want it, too, but wes was tired and strung out and limp.

_ what? _ wes said.  _ all riled up? _

_ you know me, _ grady said. he used both hands to undo the straps of the harness, tossing it on the bedroom floor. he stroked his cock with his fingers once he was free.

_ give me a second, _ wes said,  _ and you can sit on my face. _

_ so sweet to me, _ grady said.  _ angel. _

wes waved a hand.  _ angel? that’s new, _ he said.

grady reached and kissed the part of wes that was closest to him, his knee. wes took a deep breath and slowly exhaled, and then he gestured grady toward his face.  _ ready, _ he said.

wet and eager, grady shuffled up the bed on his knees before parting his legs over wes’s face. wes nosed against his pubes for a moment before he wrapped his strong hands around grady’s hips and yanked him down, pressing his tongue all up against his cock as he did so.

“oh,  _ fuck _ .”


	13. nonexplicit: red.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have a disease and that disease is Loving Numbers In Lingerie Disease. i had an idea to write a collection of seven fics, each centered around a different color of fancy underwear. i didn't get through them all, but the ones i did finish can live here.

**i. red**

wrench wouldn’t have known anything about it if he hadn’t walked in on him.

he’d gone to the store for some detergent and bleach, heavy stuff for getting the bloodstains out of their clothes. when he left, numbers was lounging on the ratty little couch, eating junk and listening to the radio, bobbing his head along to whatever it was. when he got back, the living room was abandoned and the bedroom door was closed.

he set the grocery bag down on the floor and took his shoes off by the door, and very slowly (quietly) he made his way toward the bedroom. he hoped that maybe he would open the door and numbers would be jacking off or something, so wrench could laugh and tease him and then slide into bed and join him.

grinning, wrench opened the door. he knew it creaked because numbers complained about it endlessly, so he knew he was given away immediately. when his eyes fell upon numbers, his mischievous smirk fell, and he was frozen in place.

numbers was kneeling on the floor next to some torn plastic packaging, wearing shiny red panties with the matching bra hanging off his shoulders, over his binder, the clasp undone behind him.

they stared at each other. numbers’s face got redder and redder, almost matching the underwear. the blush even started to creep down his neck. he looked like a deer in the headlights, like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. wrench’s heart was beating strangely slow. he felt like he wasn’t meant to see what he was seeing - no, he knew he wasn’t supposed to see what he was seeing. but he couldn’t look away.

after a moment, numbers’s shock faded and he fixed wrench with a glare. finally, he moved and said _go away!_

without hesitation, wrench backed out and swung the door shut.

he stood with his back against the bedroom door, stunned and confused by what had just happened, by what he walked in on. _what…?_ he thought.

numbers had a lot of secrets that he kept that wrench knew he had no hope of knowing. he had a lot of feelings that he kept to himself. wrench was desperate to know those secrets, those feelings. he was desperate for all of numbers, everything he had to give, everything he was. wrench wanted all of him. he’d always wanted all of him. _and what’s this?_ he thought, conjuring the image he’d just seen: numbers alone on their bedroom floor, in shiny red underwear, scared.

wrench took a deep breath and turned around. he opened the door again.

the bra was on the floor, discarded. numbers was tugging a worn, hole-ridden sweatshirt over his head. he was wearing a pair of sweatpants, and wrench could see the shiny red panties peeking over the waistband.

_what do you want?_ numbers said once he’d tugged his shirt into place.

_what was that?_ wrench said, a little graceless.

numbers’s blush, which had just barely abated, returned. _what are you talking about?_ he said.

_you know,_ wrench said. he knew that numbers wouldn’t want him to say it.

_shut up,_ numbers said. he kicked the bra into the laundry pile they had in the corner of the room.

_it’s okay,_ wrench said. _do you like that…?_

_i said shut up,_ numbers said. he was glaring up at wrench, but there was a tightness in his jaw, a tightness that was familiar to wrench. _don’t talk about it._

there was no getting anywhere with numbers with words - wrench could only ever get somewhere with him by doing. that was just the kind of boy numbers was. so he grabbed the waistband of numbers’s sweatpants and tugged, making him stumble and fall against wrench’s chest.

_be nice,_ wrench said with one hand, his other sliding under the sweatpants. he felt the smooth material of the panties curving against grady’s ass under his palm. he drew his hand around to numbers’s front and felt a little bow sitting right on the band of the panties. he pulled on it twice.

numbers was glaring at him, probably vividly imagining smashing wrench’s skull or something, and chewing the inside of his cheek. _what do you want!_ he said.

_talk to me,_ wrench said.

numbers pulled wrench’s hand out of his pants. _fine!_ he said. _i’ve always wanted to wear shit like this. we done now? you happy?_

_panties?_ wrench said.

numbers nodded slowly. that tightness was still in his jaw. he looked - upset. 

it was none of wrench’s business, numbers’s relationship with his gender, his body - just like how wrench’s relationship with his deafness was his and his only. wrench wanted to know more, had questions he wanted to ask, but the way numbers was peering up at him gave him pause. wrench wanted to know, of course. he wanted to know everything. but he only wanted to know this if numbers was willing to tell. like when they lost their virginities to each other, it would be meaningless if it wasn’t earned.

wrench kissed numbers on his cheekbone. he patted his chest, and then he said _i’ll make dinner._

_yeah?_ numbers said.

wrench nodded. he pecked numbers’s cheek again and left the room.  he was hungry, and he was sure numbers was too.


	14. explicit: yellow.

**iii. yellow.**

wrench finally noticed it when numbers was running after their mark and his trousers slipped a little on his hips. yellow lace, stark against numbers’s pale skin.  _ jesus, _ wrench thought, wincing,  _ why yellow? _

_ yellow? _ he said much later, after dispatching a few bullets and drilling a hole in the ice of some lake.

numbers, who sat beside him on the hood of their car smoking a cigarette, grimaced at him.  _ don’t mention it, _ he said.

whenever it came up, wrench felt like there was a chasm between them. it was simultaneously none of his business and the only thing he could think of. all he wanted, all he ever wanted, was numbers. was for numbers to feel at home with him, to feel comfortable, even if he couldn’t express those desires. he sighed. he knew that it was about more than just fucking  _ underwear _ . but… 

wrench took the cigarette from numbers’s fingers and tossed it on the ground. before numbers could even protest, wrench was kissing his neck and sliding his hand under his shirt. sure enough, he was wearing a little lace bralette - matching, no doubt. wrench ran a fingernail along a scar before he thumbed at numbers’s pierced nipple through the lace.

numbers’s hand, which he’d balled into a fist and used to strike wrench’s shoulder, fell open on his back. wrench felt a little vibration against his lips. he took his other hand, resting idly on numbers’s thigh, and plunged it into his pants. there was the lace, again, soft under his fingers. and there was numbers’s cock underneath the lace, small but mighty. warm, perfect.

wrench kissed him, then, as he began to rub him through the panties. numbers squirmed under him, moaning against his mouth. wrench was relentless, pinching his nipple, kissing him - he kept up until numbers let out a noise that had him turning his head away, and he clutched wrench’s arm as he came against wrench’s fingers.

numbers slumped against him. wrench pulled his hands back to himself. numbers panted. he felt around for wrench’s crotch, found his cock tenting his pants and squeezed. wrench felt a little groan escape him.

_ what was that about? _ numbers said.

_ i want to see you next time, _ wrench said,  _ wearing that stuff. will you let me? _

numbers stared at him. slowly, his breathing returned to normal. he licked his lips and swallowed and nodded. he mumbled, and then he kissed wrench.


	15. explicit: green.

**iv. green.**

wrench locked eyes with numbers as he wriggled out of his jeans and boxers, the green panties clutched in his fist. his cock sprang out, rigid and burning hot, and wrench watched numbers watching him, his body. he felt a wave of arousal wash over himself from the sensation that came with being watched, from being desired.

he took the panties in his hand and brought them up under his own nose, and he sniffed them. there wasn’t much of a scent - grady hadn’t been wearing them very long before wrench demanded them off, which was a pity - but he sniffed again anyway. mostly because he swore numbers nearly choked watching him the first time he did it.

numbers shifted from his kneeling position. he sat flat on his ass, thighs pressed together. wrench looked at him. numbers raised an eyebrow.

wrench took the panties in his hand and wrapped them around his cock. then, he wrapped his hand around his cock. then, he was jerking off, the smooth material of the panties gliding up and down with his hand.

numbers gasped soundlessly. wrench watched him press his knees together, squeezing his thighs together to create pressure before he stuck his own hand between his legs. wrench grimaced - he couldn’t see anything.

he waved his free hand and numbers froze.  _ can’t see, _ he said one-handed, his other hand resting around his dick.  _ wanna see. _

numbers smirked shyly. he adjusted himself, grabbing a pillow to throw under his shoulders so that when he laid back, legs spread, he could still watch wrench. wrench watched him pet his pretty, hairy cunt and stroke his cock.

they watched each other - numbers naked but for the pretty green lace bralette hugging his chest, wrench jerking himself off with the matching panties. it wasn’t often that they beat off together - if they were already there together, why bother? they much preferred to just fuck. but, as wrench watched numbers tug on his own cock with two fingers, as he watched his fingers slide along his folds, touching himself, he wondered why the fuck they didn’t do it more often.

wrench reached out and grabbed numbers’s leg. numbers raised his eyebrows.  _ finger yourself, _ wrench said.

numbers let his head tip back a bit. wrench could tell he made some kind of noise based on the way his chest moved. probably some kind of pathetic little whine -  _ dead sexy, _ wrench thought. numbers put two fingers in his mouth. wrench squeezed the base of his cock.

he pulled two shining fingers from his mouth a moment later. he ran them along his cunt, from his cock to his hole, and then he sank one finger inside himself, and then the other. his head fell back again, and he stroked his cock with his other hand, and wrench had to squeeze himself for a moment to keep from coming. numbers was the most beautiful - the most handsome - the sexiest boy wrench had ever known. sometimes, after they broke up, wrench would trawl a ramshackle club for some guy to fuck and forget, or he would go on a date with some boy, and they could never fuck half as good as numbers, and they weren’t even half as beautiful, handsome, sexy. wrench watched numbers touch himself, fuck himself, and he was suddenly desperate to put his mouth on his dick, on his cunt. he jerked off with more fervor, for he was desperate to fuck him, desperate to kiss him. numbers was canting his hips to meet the prodding of his own fingers, and he stuck the tip of his tongue out just so, and wrench grunted. numbers looked at him and wrench was already coming, come dribbling down his fingers, all but ruining the panties.

once wrench had opened his eyes and the fogginess had gone from his vision, he saw that numbers’s fingers were moving fast and desperate. he was digging his feet into the bed, his chest heaving. wrench wiped his hand on the sheet,  _ whatever _ , and grabbed numbers’s wrist. numbers didn’t look at him, not even when wrench pulled his fingers out and replaced them with his own. with his other arm, wrench pinned numbers’s hips to the bed, and then he took numbers’s cock in his mouth.

numbers tried to press up into wrench’s mouth, to press against his fingers, but wrench’s arm kept him in place. it didn’t take much longer for grady to come - with just a bit of prodding wrench had him finishing fast, rippling against his fingers, pulsating against his mouth. numbers panted afterward, almost gasping for breath. he fell back on the bed, his lovely green bra moving with his breathing.

wrench wiped his hand on the sheet again and fell next to numbers.

_ so you like it? _ numbers said, grinning as he signed, stroking a hand across his chest to indicate the underwear. he looked a little cocky, his cheeks glowing with a post-coital flush, and wrench fell in love with him again, as he had every single day of his life so far.

wrench kissed him.


	16. nonexplicit: blue.

**v. blue**

wrench only took the pearls because they were in the guy’s pocket.

davey kittridge was late in paying his dues to fargo - more than late. and he knew it, and he tried his best - as soon as he noticed wrench and numbers following him up his driveway, he fumbled for the pocket of his coat and produced a revolver. wrench watched numbers laugh as wrench shot it out of davey kittridge’s hand.

wrench knelt with one powerful knee on davey’s chest, his other knee in the wet gravel of the driveway. numbers paced back and forth where davey could see him, talking about this and that, about loyalty and money and allowances and blah blah blah, whatever it was he said to the sad sacks they ripped apart for moses tripoli.

davey pissed himself when grady pressed the barrel of his gun to his forehead. he shit himself moments after the bullet pierced his brain.

wrench was left to the body while numbers went to go look for a hose to wash away the blood on the gravel. as soon as numbers rounded the corner of the house, wrench was going through davey’s pockets. it was a bad habit, looting - an old survival skill. he found the guy’s wallet in the left coat pocket. two-hundred eleven dollars and five cents. in his right coat pocket, there was a slim rectangular box. there was some silver emblem on the front. wrench looked at it up and down, and then he opened it.

inside was a string of pearls with a delicate gold clasp. they were beautiful. when wrench stuffed the box in his own pocket, he was thinking of pawning it, or maybe selling it directly to one of the assholes they worked with. but as he watched numbers running back around the side of the dead motherfucker’s house, waving a garden hose and grinning, he had a different idea.

they had sex when they got back to the motel. a job well done usually had them feeling pretty amorous. a little inspired, wrench finished on numbers’s neck.

_what are you, straight?_ numbers said after, mocking him, laying there looking up at him with a smarmy little expression, the come around his neck shining.

wrench shoved him.

  
  


wrench forgot about the necklace until they got home from the job. then, he put it in his nightstand and forgot about it for a while longer. he only remembered when it was a little past numbers’s birthday and snow was starting to fall. numbers came home one afternoon with snowflakes on his shoulders and a little pink bag on his arm.

_what’s that?_ wrench said.

_something,_ numbers said, grinning.

_oh yeah?_ wrench said.

numbers disappeared into the bedroom. wrench forced himself not to follow numbers. he kept himself on the couch, watching television but not really seeing it. instead, he thought of numbers in their room, shedding his clothes, shedding his boxers and putting on something soft, something little, form-fitting, diaphanous. he thought of his lithe, hairy body, scrawny but elegant in its way. he thought of how good he felt - wrench shivered a little - how hot, how soft, how tight… it was then that he was snapped out of his thoughts, dark and warm and dirty they were, by something hitting the back of his head. the projectile fell onto the couch beside him. it was a pair of balled-up socks.

wrench looked over at the bedroom door. there stood numbers in a pair of ice-blue panties with a white lace overlay over the crotch, a long, neat bow sitting at the top. they were such a light color, pastel, and it contrasted so starkly with the dark hair on his belly that disappeared underneath the waistband, the hair under his arms, the hair on his legs.

_hey,_ numbers said, waving.

wrench waved back.

_you gonna come here?_ numbers said.

_you want me to?_ wrench said.

numbers nodded. he walked backward into the bedroom once more.

wrench was up like a shot.

numbers was sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting. wrench walked right past him toward the nightstand.

the little box was still there, of course, sitting amongst the usual detritus: a package of tissues, a few pens, some tic-tacs and a few unused condoms. he grabbed it and turned toward numbers, who was looking at him with a confused expression.

_what’s that?_ he said.

wrench just shook the box once. he joined numbers on the bed, kneeling, and opened it right under his face. he was close enough that he could see the pearls reflected in numbers’s eyes.

_what the fuck are these?_ numbers said.

_from that guy a few months ago,_ wrench said after dropping the box onto the bed. _K-I-T-T-R-I-D-G-E. had them in his pocket. probably for his wife._

_so you took them?_ numbers said.

_for my wife,_ wrench said. he couldn’t resist. numbers tried to hide his grin as he smacked him.

_not your wife,_ numbers said. _would a wife have all this fucking hair? this beard?_

wrench shook his head.

_ that’s right. _

numbers looked at the box abandoned on the bed. he plucked the pearls out of it, holding them in his hand. _pretty,_ he said. _put them on me._

wrench took the pearls in his hand and undid the clasp. he looped them around numbers’s pale neck, hooking it in the front so he could see what he was doing. 

they didn’t hang very low, they just brushed numbers’s collarbone. they sat on top of his _boundaries_ tattoo so demurely, so perfectly. wrench had a strong, sudden urge to trace his lips around numbers’s neck and bite.

_look at me,_ numbers said, gesturing toward the pearls, toward the blue panties. he was smiling, a genuine, little smile. his cheeks were pink.

_don’t have to ask me twice,_ wrench said.


	17. explicit: purple.

**vii. purple.**

they hadn’t broken up in a long time. not since before numbers got his top surgery done. wrench supposed they were due.

to their credit, they’d only been broken up for three days. not enough time to destroy themselves, to fuck around with other people, to get blitzed and make bad decisions. wrench had left the apartment and stayed at a motel for a few days until his phone vibrated against his leg with a text from numbers that said  _ pls pls come home. _

and so that’s what wrench was doing. he was going home. it was almost late - ten-thirty. he was walking back home because he didn’t take the car, left it for numbers. it wasn’t far, anyway. just a few blocks more and he would be home.

_ home. _

he took the stairs by two up to their apartment. the door was unlocked when he got there and he walked right in. the living room and kitchen were dark, the only light coming from the faint glow of their bedroom lamp. wrench walked toward it.

sprawled out on the bed was numbers. he was asleep, clinging to a pillow, a bottle of vodka empty on the nightstand. _fucking disaster,_ wrench thought. numbers was wearing tall black stockings and dark purple mesh panties. _disaster,_ wrench thought again.

he sat on the bed and shook numbers’s thigh. numbers stirred, rolling onto his side but not opening his eyes.

wrench shook him again, his shoulder this time. numbers opened his eyes. they were red-rimmed.

he frowned and knit his brow and he spoke before he signed:  _ are you mad? _

wrench shook his head.  _ not anymore, _ he said.

_ didn’t mean to drink, _ numbers said.

_ i know _ , wrench said.

_ dressed up for you,  _ numbers said.

_ didn’t have to,  _ wrench said. he kicked off his shoes and tossed his coat onto the floor. he threw his shirt off and laid on the bed next to numbers.

_ i’ll make it up to you, _ numbers said.

_ don’t have to, _ wrench said. he took numbers in his arms, then, both because he missed him desperately and because he wanted him to stop talking. numbers clung to him, wrapping his arms and legs around his shoulders and waist, and after a moment wrench felt numbers’s shoulders trembling.

wrench rubbed his back.  _ it’s okay, _ he thought.  _ it’s okay, it’s okay… _

wrench woke up in the morning to numbers wearing the t-shirt he’d discarded the night before when he got home. wrench ran a hand along his leg, over the black stockings, before he scooped numbers back up into his arms and held him, still asleep. he smelled himself on numbers, the scent fused to his shirt. he cuddled him, kicking the blanket around until he could pull it over both of them.

numbers shifted in his arms, then, and wrench was met with his groggy face. he was pouting and squinting and blinking hard against the light of day, and it was so cute that wrench couldn’t help himself. he kissed numbers’s cheeks.

_you’re home,_ numbers said.

_i’m home,_ wrench said.

numbers kissed him again and again. wrench sighed into his kisses and ran his fingers through numbers’s hair, kinky and unkempt. three days. three days and he came crawling back. he came back on command. like a little dog. he pushed away those thoughts and focused on kissing, focused on numbers’s perfect mouth, focused on his perfect tongue tracing a little line along wrench’s bottom lip. he opened his mouth.

as they kissed, wrench pulled numbers on top of himself. he relaxed into their bed, numbers a warm, familiar weight on him, and let his hands roam numbers’s body. he ran his hands along numbers’s thighs, his hips, his back. he squeezed his ass, encased in mesh. numbers wiggled against him, grinding.

finally, they parted.

_i just want you to fuck me,_ numbers said. _i need you._

wrench nodded.  _ i’ll take care of you, _ he said. he rubbed numbers’s cheeks, feeling his beard under his hands, and kissed him once more.  _ just leave it to me, _ he thought,  _ i’ll take care of you, pretty boy. _

_lay down,_ he said, and numbers did, rolling off of him and spreading himself out beside him. he was still wearing everything - the t-shirt, the panties, the stockings. wrench settled between his open legs and rubbed his thighs.

_please,_ numbers said. _do it._

wrench shook his head. _let me,_ he said. he took numbers’s stockings off for him, and then the panties. he tossed them aside and left numbers laying there prone wearing only wrench’s own t-shirt. it was from one of their jobs, a touristy thing from montana. there was the sun rising over a flat plain and orange letters urging you to visit helena. they’d run out of clothes without blood on them. a rookie mistake.

finally, wrench took off his own jeans. he’d slept in them, and so they felt like a second skin, fused to his legs. it felt amazing to take them and his boxers off at once. he noticed numbers’s eyes zeroing in on his cock, hard and flush.  _ typical boy, _ he thought.  _ only wants one thing. _

wrench settled back down on the bed, kneeling between numbers’s legs. he ran his thumb between numbers’s wet folds, pressing against his hole. he was burning hot, and pulsing, and his dick looked so lovely, and he was so pink -

_not enough,_ numbers said.

wrench raised an eyebrow.

_me,_ numbers said. _lube. last time, i noticed._

wrench reached for the nightstand and grabbed the lube. he liberally poured it on numbers’s cunt, perhaps excessive, and watched numbers writhe for a moment, surely from how cold it was. he smiled, watching him wriggle, and leaned down to kiss his jaw just as he traced his fingers through the lube and pressed his index finger inside. he felt numbers’s neck vibrate and knew he was talking to himself. numbers said all kinds of nasty things when they fucked - that, wrench knew for sure. he was probably saying something like “fuck yes, give it to me, i’m your slut.”

(unbeknownst to wrench, of course, numbers was saying “i missed you, i missed you so much.”)

wrench truly enjoyed fingering numbers, loved feeling him contract around his fingers, loved watching him. of course, wrench loved to fuck him, but there was something about sticking his fingers inside that felt different. he idly stroked his own cock, watching numbers twist his fists in his shirt as he added a second finger. through the shirt wrench could see the peaks of numbers’s nipples and the barbels that ran through them.

_stoppit, i want you to fuck me,_ numbers said, _please._

wrench shook his head. he pulled his fingers out and took some of the lube, which was making a dark puddle in the sheet under numbers, and rubbed it on numbers’s cock with his thumb. he watched numbers sigh as he did so, and his leg twitched.

_hold your horses, pretty boy,_ he said. _don’t worry, i’ll get you there._

numbers closed his eyes, and wrench was sure he whined. he pressed his fingers back inside and watched numbers’s belly, watched it move as he breathed. _you’re too much,_ he thought, _you’re so much._

he leaned down and ran his tongue up numbers’s belly, nosing his t-shirt up and out of the way as he went. he ran his tongue over numbers’s scar and against his nipple before kissing his chest, over his heart. he sped up his wrist, thrusting his fingers, feeling numbers’s heartbeat under his cheek. one of numbers’s hands was in his hair, clutching the curls at his neck, the other was cutting into wrench’s shoulder.

he was trying to press a third finger in when numbers pulled sharply on his hair. wrench looked at him. “please,” he said, lips clear as day, “pleassssse.”

wrench kissed his pleading mouth.


	18. explicit: pink & black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> these were both meant to be longer and standalone. now they can live together. i THINK this is the very last of my lingerie fics.

**pink.**

one night, back from a day of stalking their next mark, they drag themselves across the threshold of their motel room, tired and worn out from speeding across town all day. wrench dropped onto the nearest bed while numbers shrugged his coat off onto the other bed. wrench propped himself up on an elbow and watched numbers kick off his shoes and toe off his socks. reminded, wrench kicked his own boots off.

numbers took off his blazer then and started on the buttons of his shirt. wrench waved a hand.  _ are you getting in the shower? _ he said.

numbers didn’t answer. he just looked at him for a moment before going back to his buttons. wrench frowned.  _ jerk,  _ he thought.

but with each button undone, a little more of numbers’s front was exposed, and wrench saw that, underneath everything, he’d been wearing a sweet little pink number that hugged his body beautifully. it was sheer all over, mesh with lace insets and a demure little ribbon. through the pink glow of the one-piece, wrench saw numbers’s hair, his bellybutton, his scars, his nipples. numbers undid his pants and they fell to the floor, revealing sheer ruffles at the top of his legs.

_ you’ve been wearing that all day? _ wrench said.  _ i didn’t even see you put it on this morning. _

numbers shrugged.  _ knew we had a boring fucking day ahead of us, _ he said.  _ had to make it exciting somehow. _ he held out his hands, inviting wrench into his arms.

wrench stood.  _ hey, pretty boy, _ he said. he stroked along numbers’s cheekbones with his thumbs.

he remembered when they were younger, five or six years ago, when they were twenty-five, and he found grady in their shitty little bedroom wearing lingerie that he’d found at the thrift shop and hidden. new in its packaging but somehow still with that stale, mothball scent, wrench had stumbled across him admiring himself in the mirror. it was red and shiny, satin. wrench would never forget it. he was immediately embarrassed, trying to cover himself with a blanket, his face red. something in him was bruised, hurt, and wrench wouldn’t understand it until later, when grady felt comfortable talking to him about it.

numbers smiled. he was a sucker for sweet things like that, like _pretty boy_ and _baby._

_how much?_ wrench said before running a hand down numbers’s front, feeling the soft lace and the mesh, toying with the ribbon.

_not much,_ numbers said. _two hundred. over two hundred._

wrench raised an eyebrow. _worth it?_ he said.

_anything that gets you to look at me that way is worth it,_ numbers said.

_you don’t need to spend money for me to do that,_ wrench said.

_i know,_ numbers said, _but i like to._

*****

**black.**

numbers appeared, then, all five feet, eleven inches of him, wearing black stockings that climbed up his legs and cradled his thighs and a pair of mesh-panelled, high-waisted panties. a little matching bralette clung to his chest, two decorative black straps crisscrossing over what little of his belly was exposed. his hair wasn’t styled, free of the usual product that kept it upright, and his bangs fell across his forehead.

wrench had sat up from his lounging position without realizing. he was sitting at attention now. numbers scratched at his chest, through the dark hairs half-concealed by his bralette.

_ done being angry? _ numbers said.

_ i was angry? _ wrench said.

numbers grinned. slowly - almost unbearably slowly - he made his way over to the couch, step by agonizing step. wrench had half a mind to just get up and hoist him into his arms, toss him onto their bed and have his way with him. but that wouldn’t be nearly as much fun as whatever numbers was about to do with him. finally, numbers was sitting himself in wrench’s lap.

they just look at each other for a moment, wrench raising a hand to trace over the straps hugging numbers’s back. he ran his fingers across numbers’s back, counting one, two, three on each side. numbers leaned into his touch without breaking their stare.

_ you were, _ numbers said.  _ you were being real mean. _

wrench raised an eyebrow.  _ yeah, and? _

_ said some mean things to me, _ numbers said.

_ i wouldn’t, _ wrench said.

_ but you did,  _ numbers said.  _ i think you should make it up to me. _

_ tell me how, _ wrench said.

numbers grasped one of his wrists and dragged his hand down numbers’s front, against the soft hair on his chest and belly, the silky straps on his belly, the sleek mesh of his bra. wrench watched numbers set his hand on top of his black panties.

_i want you to eat me out,_ numbers said.

_you always want that,_ wrench said. _you’re always saying wes, eat my cunt, wes, suck my dick. you’re a slut for my tongue._

numbers grinned despite the pretty pink flush that spread across his cheeks. _you’re so good at it,_ he said.

_not much of a punishment for me,_ wrench said. _not if i enjoy it._

_tell me,_ numbers said.

_i’d live between your legs,_ wrench said, _lick you for hours, play with you for hours, make you come and come with my tongue. you’re so sweet and pink and hairy down there._

numbers closed his eyes and shuddered. he ran his hands down wrench’s chest, feeling him through his t-shirt. he opened his eyes again, and they stared at each other once more, half-lidded.

_you’re so sexy,_ wrench said.

numbers smiled. _tell me,_ he said.

_sexy boy,_ wrench said before nuzzling his neck and sliding his hands down to numbers’s ass and squeezing. he felt numbers’s voice buzzing through his neck, against his lips.

wrench picked him up, finally, and carried him off to their bedroom. he threw him down on their bed in just the way that numbers liked and wasted no time in dropping down on top of him and kissing him, rubbing their bodies together, grinding his cock against numbers’s front.

_don’t,_ numbers managed. _if you do that i’ll just want you to fuck me._

_so?_ wrench said

_want you to eat me out first,_ he said.

_ fuck you with my tongue. _

numbers threw his head back and groaned. wrench bit his throat and pulled. he trailed his mouth down numbers’s front, stopping here and there to bite until he found himself at numbers’s panties, which he grabbed with his teeth. he tugged on them, but he didn’t make it very far and so instead he used his hands, pulling them down numbers’s legs, exposing his pretty wet cunt. he ran a hand through his pubic hair, tugging a bit, and looked up at numbers.

numbers was looking down at him, biting his lip when their eyes met. wrench lowered his mouth down onto numbers’s cunt and licked his cock without breaking their stare. he watched numbers’s eyes droop, watched his lips part, watched air fly from his chest. satisfied, wrench set to work, taking his cock in his mouth and guiding numbers’s hands to his hair. numbers’s hands fisted his hair immediately, painful but a small price to pay to watch numbers squirm like that.


	19. explicit: strap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one is like installment twelve (12) but a little different. :)

_ tell me what you want. _

grady watched as wes bit his lip, slow and thoughtful. he was so pink already and they’d barely even started. grady had his cock - purple, six inches, thick enough - ready, harness wrapped around his hips and thighs. all they’d really done was make out a bit, grab the lube and gotten undressed.

grady nudged his plastic cock against wes’s thigh. wes looked down, watching, and looked back up at grady’s face. he had his hands still against his stomach, and his breathing had gotten a tad deeper. there was something in his eyes and the way he was looking at grady.

grady tried again. he scraped his thumbnail against each of wes’s nipples, biting back his grin when wes twitched against the touch.  _ can’t fuck you if i don’t know how you want it,  _ he said, hands moving at a leisurely pace.  _ tell me, baby. _

he watched wes huff a breath.

dirty talk was entirely grady’s realm, his _thing,_ his desire. in a lot of ways grady was still a foul-mouthed fifteen year old that said nasty things for the sake of saying nasty things. wes usually acquiesced, at least when it pertained to grady. he’d call grady his slut and his pretty boy and ask if he wanted his cock all day and all night if grady wanted him to. but, grady supposed, when it came to  _ himself _ …

grady ran a hand through wes’s hair.  _ take your time, _ he said with his other hand.  _ got all night. _ he ran his hand through wes’s hair again, and used his other hand to pop the cap on the lube and pour some onto wes’s toned stomach. he watched him flinch as it hit his skin, cool and sticky. he dipped his fingers in the puddle he made and trailed them past wes’s cock and balls down to his cute little hole. with his other hand he cradled wes’s face as he let out a soundless gasp, grady’s finger pressing against him until he yielded and he sunk in.

wes grunted as grady’s finger sunk all the way in. he tipped his head back and breathed heavily through his nose. grady rubbed against his thigh with his strap-on. he grabbed wes’s chin gently and forced him to look at him.

“gotta tell me, wes,” he said, and he knew wes read him.

wes sighed. he shook one of his hands and grady knew he was about to say something, at least.

_ i want you, _ wes said and stopped. he looked at grady, so sheepish, and grady just stroked the skin around his hole with one of his wet fingers that wasn’t yet inside him.  _ i want you to slide it in deep, and when i come i don’t want you to stop, i want you to keep going until you make me come again and again with that thing. _

grady couldn’t help his wide grin. wes, red though he was, managed a smile back. grady chuckled and leaned in and nuzzled wes’s neck, pressing his second finger inside after a little bit of prodding. “was that so hard?” he said into wes’s neck, listening to him breathe.


	20. explicit: creampie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no idea if this is a trigger for anyone? but this involves ejaculating inside a cunt. and an unreasonably short refractory period??

wrench grunted, an uncharacteristically pathetic noise, and there it was. numbers felt it just as he always had - the warm, heavy intrusion of wrench inside him - but there was something extra.  _ come, it’s fucking come, he came inside you, jesus christ, _ he thought, and he shuddered, and he squeezed wrench’s shoulders tighter.

wrench groaned again, right in numbers’s ear, and he buried himself deep one last time before he pulled out, slowly, so numbers could really feel it.

numbers laid there panting. wrench sat back with a loud sigh. he watched wrench watch him and saw his face as it changed from tired and worn to… he bit his bottom lip, and his cheeks which had been fading to pink were suddenly red again.

_ what? _ numbers said.

wrench didn’t say anything. instead he swiped his thumb along numbers’s folds and showed him: come, white, thick.

“i want to see…” numbers whined. it sent ripples through him, the idea of his cunt overflowing with wrench’s come.  _ i want to see, _ he signed.

wrench smirked.  _ sorry, pretty boy, _ he said,  _ this is for my eyes only. _

_ selfish, _ numbers said,  _ selfish and evil.  _ numbers huffed. he let his eyes fall to wrench’s crotch, where he was surprisingly alert.

_ jesus, _ he said,  _ you’re hard again? _

wrench ignored him and played with numbers’s messy hole.  _ are you surprised? _ he said. he rubbed at numbers’s sore hole, his cock, and numbers whined again. he wanted to ask wrench not to touch him, but he knew he’d regret it. he bit his tongue.  _ sexiest thing i’ve ever seen. _

_ guys love seeing their own come, _ numbers said.  _ some kinda territorial shit. _

_ i bet, _ wrench said absently. he idly stroked himself, eyes still riveted on numbers’s dribbling cunt.  _ wanna go again? _ he said.

numbers bit his lip and barely waited a moment before he nodded, shameless and wanting.

_ yeah, _ wrench said,  _ knew you’d want to. want more of my come in you, don’t you? _

numbers sucked in a sharp breath. he had only a second to decide whether he would be a good boy or a bad one, compliant or disobedient.  _ yes, _ he said.  _ i do _ .

wrench crawled back up numbers’s body, making sure to brush his cock against numbers’s leg, his belly. he kissed numbers once their faces were level, licking his mouth and inviting himself inside. numbers croaked when their tongues met, wet and hot. wrench’s fingers were on his cunt again, in his cunt, messy with his own wetness and wrench’s come, thick and slow like molasses. he felt a stab of embarrassment and guilt and dirtiness - he knew it was safe now, but he felt vaguely wrong wanting it. he remembered being nineteen, horrified when wrench told him that the condom had broken. but then wrench slid two fingers back inside him and he lost all thought for a moment.

wrench took his two fingers back and offered them to numbers, tracing them along his bottom lip. numbers opened his mouth and took them, obedient, wanting.

if numbers was in the right frame of mind, he would’ve thought it was disgusting. but he was too far gone, and all it was was delightfully depraved and dirty as fuck. he moaned around wrench’s fingers as wrench rubbed the head of his cock against numbers’s cunt before pressing inside once more. it was way too much - he was overstimulated, oversensitive, overwhelmed - but he could take it. he bit wrench’s fingers and wrapped his legs around wrench’s waist, and his arms around his neck, pulling him close. wrench took his fingers out of his mouth and wiped them on the pillow beside them, and then he started to move.

he was relentless. his hips snapped hard against numbers. numbers held on tighter, and that was all he could really do: hold on tight. he yelped when wrench’s teeth were suddenly biting into his neck. “wes, i can’t,” he said, a few tears wobbling along his lashline. “wes, oh god.”

and wrench, blissfully oblivious, fucked him harder.

numbers cried, the pleasure too much to bear, and he let wrench bite rings into his neck, and he tried to focus his fuzzy head on how wrench’s hips felt against him, fluid and fierce like a well-oiled machine. he felt it, then, the tingling in the soles of his feet - “jesus,” he groaned, somehow unlocking an arm from around wrench’s shoulder so he could reach down between them and pull at his cock. finally wrench stopped nipping his neck and he pulled back a bit to watch numbers get off. his eyes were blown, out of focus, and his face was so flushed. he rubbed numbers’s cheek, wiping away a stray tear, and numbers was coming with a curse - “shit, shit, shit!” - and wrench was watching him. and then, like dominos, he grunted, and screwed his eyes shut, and bit his lip, and there was that warmth again, spreading inside him.

wrench thrust against him once, twice more, and then he pulled out, falling over to the side and onto his back. both of them were panting hard. numbers’s fingers, still on his cock, slid down to his hole, and he whined when he felt it: sore and hot to the touch, pouring wrench’s come.

numbers looked over at wrench, and wrench looked back at him. numbers wanted to say  _ show me, _ but he only had one hand, and so instead he said  _ see, _ and hoped wrench would understand as he tapped his finger against his cheek. and of course, he did.

wrench somehow staggered to his feet and left the bedroom only to return a moment later with their polaroid camera. numbers cracked a smile. wrench knelt between his spread legs and snapped a picture of numbers’s wrecked cunt. the camera spat out a dark square, and wrench snatched it up and started to wave it in the air.

_ that doesn’t do anything,  _ numbers said. wrench shrugged and set the picture on the bed. they watched it develop together, the image fading in: numbers laying with his legs spread, his pubes matted by his own wetness, his hand pulling the skin back, and -

“jesus,” numbers breathed. wrench cocked his head.  _ i get it, _ numbers signed.  _ if i were you i’d wanna fuck me too. _ he grinned.

wrench laughed his silent laugh. he kissed numbers’s cheek, surprisingly chaste, and then, quick as a whip, he ducked between his legs once more and next thing numbers knew, wrench’s tongue was on his sore cock, and he was slurping away at his cunt.

“oh,” numbers sighed, “that’s so nasty.” but he ran a hand through wrench’s hair and held him there against him, not that he would ever try to move away. if there was anything wrench loved, it was sucking numbers’s dick and eating him out until his tongue was numb.

wrench’s tongue felt good on his too-hot, worn, overstimulated cunt. soft and smooth and gentle, the gentleness that had been missing when they’d fucked. numbers arched against his mouth, reveling.

wrench came up for air. numbers caressed the back of his head as they locked eyes.  _ you taste real good, _ wrench said.  _ i wonder why? _ and there was that awful, mischievous grin of his, and he winked.


	21. explicit: choking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one's got a bit of choking in it. also the p-word - so big warning if that makes you uncomfortable!

wes has always had a fondness for shoving things up grady’s cunt - whether it be a dildo or a vibrator or his own cock, or maybe something a little unusual and ill-advised like when they were young and had only themselves and oceans of lust raging inside for each other. but, besides his dick, his favorite thing to press inside grady was his fingers.

grady was whining. wes could tell from the faces he was making and the way his chest moved. he was whining and squirming, bearing down on wes’s three fingers inside him. wes rubbed at grady’s hard cock, wet from wes’s mouth and his own slick, with his thumb.

_ how’s it feel? _ wes managed with his free hand.

_ you know how it feels, _ grady said.  _ so good. _

_ yeah? _ wes said, raising his eyebrows. he punctuated by thrusting his fingers particularly hard, and he grinned as grady threw his head back. he bit back a giggle, bending to give his cock a wet kiss. grady tried to arch against his mouth but wes pulled away fast.

_ tell me again, _ wes said.  _ speak. _

wes watched grady talk, his mouth moving around silent words. he loved watching grady talk, especially when they were in the middle of some dirty shit - he loved thinking about grady speaking aloud with only himself to hear what depraved shit he was saying.

(“you treat me so good,” grady was saying, “you fuck me so good. so good… your fingers feel so big.”)

_ what do you want? _ wes said.

grady touched his neck.

wes grinned. he leaned down and kissed right under grady’s belly button before he slid his hand from where he’d rested it on grady’s thigh all the way up to his neck. he watched grady gasp right before he wrapped his hand around his neck. he flexed, and then he squeezed.

grady all but  _ thrashed  _ against his hand and his fingers. his face was so red - he looked so desperate. wes eased on his hand for a moment, gave him room to breathe, and he watched him drink the air for a moment. wes squeezed again, leaning to trail gentle kisses up the side of his face. he thrust his fingers fast and relentless, strokes even.

he could feel himself, hard and hot, and thought about how good it would be to fuck grady once he’d had his fill and maybe come a few times. he’d be so relaxed, so calm, so loose, so wet… wes grunted and squeezed again, thrust his three fingers harder. he watched little tears bubble in the corners of grady’s eyes and then grady was grabbing his wrist, clawing at him, and -

wes let go of grady’s neck as he gasped; there were red marks around his neck and wes couldn’t help but throb as the image went straight to his cock. he felt grady ripple against his fingers, expanding and contracting as he came.  _ fucking beautiful, _ wes thought, gently pulling his fingers from grady’s cunt. he watched him tremble and shudder through the rest of his orgasm. his whole body, it seemed, was pink.

grady deflated on the bed, panting. his eyelids fluttered, and he looked up at wes looming over him. he smiled weakly, still breathing heavy.

wes took his three sticky fingers and held them under his own nose, sniffing.

he watched grady groan.  _ don’t do that! _ he said, squirming.

_ your P-U-S-S-Y is too good, _ wes said, spelling it out for emphasis.  _ can’t wait to fuck you. _ he dropped to his elbows, each arm resting along either side of grady’s head, and worked on kissing the red marks he’d left around his neck. wes knew he was the only man in the world that could call say that to grady and he reveled in it, in the way that grady let him have every bit of himself, the beautiful and the ugly, the new and the old. every last bit of himself grady shared with wes. he felt himself again, so hard and so wanting. he rutted against grady’s soft, hairy thigh.

he felt grady’s hand on the back of his neck, stroking the soft, fine hair there. he closed his eyes, still kissing grady’s warm, red neck, and for a moment he lived in the way grady’s fingers felt trailing up and down the back of his neck. he sighed, and he felt grady’s other hand around his cock, tugging languid and even.

they pulled apart after a moment.

_ if it’s so good, _ grady said,  _ why aren’t you fucking me already? huh, big guy? _

wes cracked a smile and kissed him on the mouth, wet and messy and goofy. when he pulled away, grady was smirking.  _ when we break the bed ‘cause i fuck you too hard, you’re not allowed to whine about it,  _ wes said before tugging grady’s legs around his waist and pressing in.


	22. nonexplicit: ring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one's just cutesy.
> 
> almost completely out of my wrenchers smut stash! just a handful of scraps left.

the woman looked like she was about to piss herself.

wrench gestured for her ring again. numbers was downstairs with the husband, hiram lounds, a real pig of a guy that was in charge of their trucking business in east montana. his wife was a waif in comparison. probably had anorexia or something. or maybe it was all those cigarettes they’d seen in the ashtray on the porch on the way inside.

he couldn’t blame her for just staring at him blankly, her eyes all huge and terrified. he knew what this was. but he was also getting annoyed. he gestured once more for her ring.

she sprang into action then, practically ripping the engagement ring off her finger and throwing it at him. he caught it effortlessly in the hand that wasn’t occupied by a gun pointed directly at her chest.

he watched her babble. it was lost on him, of course. he thought he saw the words _ring_ and _husband,_ and maybe _expensive,_ but he couldn’t be sure. he pocketed the ring, and he didn’t think about it again until he and numbers were cuddling in their rented bed, a pink neon light flashing through the blinds. numbers was long asleep, laying on top of him. wrench was holding the ring between two fingers, watching the pink light bounce off of it.

it was too much. it was a square diamond surrounded by a ring of smaller ones set onto an admittedly sturdy golden band. it looked like a doorknocker. it looked like it could take a guy’s eye out, if you hit him the right way. he had half a mind to take it down to the guy he was friendly with at the pawn shop back home, but as he glanced down at numbers asleep on his chest, his face slack and peaceful, he thought better of it.

wrench stuck it under his pillow and wrapped his arm around numbers’s shoulders. he closed his eyes, then, and slept, pink neon light flashing across his eyelids.

  
  
  


wrench proposed to numbers once before.

it was when they were kids, the pair of them barely older than eighteen. not that they weren’t still young - twenty-seven was still pretty young to get married, at least when you weren’t living in some backwater town like the one they came from. numbers had still been living with his mom - they were in the business, but they weren’t assets yet, at least not valuable ones. wrench had nearly asked margaret levin if he could ask for her son’s hand, but he’d thought better of it. numbers would’ve reamed him out for it.  _ i’m not a little girl, _ he would’ve said bitterly.

numbers was still living with his mom when wrench asked. he remembered driving up to their house like he had so many times before, jiggling his leg, anxious as hell. he did have a ring back then - it was his mother’s ring, a shitty thing that was missing its central diamond. his dad had hawked it when wrench was a kid. it nearly burnt a hole in wrench’s pocket as he drove.

when he finally showed up at the house, numbers was already outside. he was smoking and lounging in their porch swing, swaying back and forth. he waved when he first saw wrench’s car.

wrench almost made it to the porch. he was shy of the stairs when he dropped to his knees in the yard and said  _ will you marry me? _

numbers had laughed, and then he cried.

he said no, eventually. but he took the ring and they drove out to the spot where they’d first had sex, in the bed of wrench’s truck under the stars in the middle of a field, and they’d held each other for a while, watching the sun set.

_i can’t marry you,_ numbers said. _but, maybe someday…_

and wrench, only a little devastated, kissed him.

  
  
wrench carried hiram lounds’s wife’s ring for almost a month before he proposed. like his mother’s before him, it burned a hole in his pocket, but he knew, almost instinctively, that each moment that nearly felt right wasn’t quite right: in the throes of passion, looking down at numbers as he fucked him and seeing him looking back, just staring up at him like wrench was the first thing he’d ever seen; watching him wake up in the morning, blinking through his sleeping daze, hair messy; watching him pull his hands out of his pockets, silver brass knuckles on both, pulling back and punching a fuck of a target; helping him with his t-shot, watching him wince like he always did, balling his hand into a fist on his thigh - numbers was beautiful, beautiful,  _ beautiful _ , even when what he was doing wasn’t.


	23. explicit: fighting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> they're broken up, and pissed, but they still have to work with each other. hooking up while pissed! messy of them. but i love it. they were meant to make up later in this, but i obviously never finished. ah. they're young here, i don't remember, early twenties?? young and volatile.

in the morning, they’ll start on the drive back home. before morning comes, though, they have to sleep.

numbers laid awake in his bed. memories from earlier flashed through his mind: wrench punching that guy in the face, his bloody knuckles as he pulled his fist back. the way wrench looked at him when he tried to help patch him up. the way that wrench relented and let him rub antiseptic on his split knuckles. the way wrench’s hand felt in his, heavy and familiar.

numbers wasn’t having much luck out in the field. he got drunk every other night at whatever bar or club, sometimes with a handsome stranger, but more often than not he was by himself, horrifically alone. most guys, most of the handsome ones, were looking for something he couldn’t give them, but once in a while he found someone that just wanted a warm hole and didn’t really care where it was or what it was, and those were the guys that he slept with. guys that when he said “i have a snatch, do you give a shit?” didn’t give a shit and fucked him anyway, barely looked him up and down and fucked him anyway. the last time numbers had sex was maybe two weeks ago, when he managed to catch the eye of a guy that was tall enough, strong enough, with hair red enough and long enough that he could pretend…

numbers rubbed his face. the feeling of wrench’s hand in his own came back unbidden, and he felt his other hand trailing down his belly and slipping under the waistband of his boxers. there was his pubes first, thick as a forest, and his cock, blazing hot against his cold fingers, and his folds, yielding for himself. his cheeks burned - he was so wet from a chaste fucking memory.

numbers flattened his hand over his eyes as he began beating off, two fingers inside. he thought of wrench asleep in the bed next to his, oblivious. he took a deep breath and reached the hand he’d been covering his eyes with down into his boxers. he started jerking his cock with his thumb and forefinger and _god,_ did it feel good.

numbers threw his head back into his pillow. in his mind he quickly shuffled through images, asses and cocks and stubble and strong bodies and bloody knuckles and wavy red hair and a rough flannel shirt rubbing against his skin… he stilled his hands and swore (“goddammit!”) and he laid there for a moment. and then he heard it - the too-familiar low shuffling sound of…

fire erupted in his chest. he threw the covers back and jumped to his feet before throwing himself onto wrench’s bed. he ripped the blankets off of wrench’s body and caught him, sweats pulled down just enough, dick in hand. _are you jerking off?_ numbers said.

wrench, looking incensed, glared up at him. _what kind of fucking question is that?_ he said. abandoned, his dick pointed straight up at the ceiling. _what, am i not allowed?_

_why would you do it with me here?_ numbers said.

_i felt like it,_ wrench said, sneering. they stared at each other a moment before wrench grasped numbers’s wrist and leaned in fast to sniff his fingers. numbers ripped his wrist out of wrench’s grip, but not before he had a good whiff and adopted a cocky look in his eye

_ hypocrite, _ wrench said,  _ fucking hypocrite. _

_ fuck you, _ numbers said.

_ fuck you. _

numbers lunged for him. he didn’t know what he was thinking - wrench overpowered him instantaneously, throwing him down on the bed in his place. all the air whooshed out of numbers’s chest when his back hit the mattress, and then wrench’s face was in his.  _ you want to play? _ wrench said. he waved his bandaged knuckles in numbers’s face. the knuckles that numbers had bandaged himself barely three hours ago.  _ you know i don’t play nice, smart guy. _

numbers, pissed and horny as fuck, jerked forward and kissed him.

it wasn’t a good kiss. it was terrible, all teeth. but it got the point across. they kissed horrifically, messily, violently. numbers felt wrench’s hands on him, tugging at his clothes, scratching at his skin. numbers shimmied out of his boxers and left his t-shirt. wrench, already shirtless, tossed his sweatpants. they kissed again, and it was all bite. numbers reached for - something, he didn’t know - but wrench found his hands and pinned them against the mattress by the wrists. wrench roughly rubbed himself against numbers’s belly then, and numbers shivered at how hard he was, and how hot - burning hot.

“are we gonna fuck?” numbers said. wrench couldn’t read him. he let go of his wrists. _are we gonna fuck?_ numbers signed.

wrench shoved his shoulder, and that was answer enough for numbers.

_condoms,_ he said. _backpack._

wrench reached over the side of the bed and grabbed numbers’s backpack. he rummaged through the compartments before he opened a side pocket and condoms spilled out. he eyed numbers. _trying to fuck on the job?_ he said. _trying to find someone out in this fucking trash heap to fuck you?_

_no,_ numbers said, cheeks burning. he fell just short of humiliated. _i didn’t take them out of my bag from…_

_whatever,_ wrench said. he ripped one of them open and rolled it onto his cock, and numbers watched and couldn’t help his mouth watering a bit and he hated himself. for a lucid moment he hated himself. _it’s all about sex to you, idiot,_ he thought, _no matter what he says to you it’s just about sex._ he reached down and poked around his wet hole, stretching it with his fingers, pulling at his cock. _if anything,_ he countered, _at least i’ll get fucked_ right _tonight._

after a few experimental tugs, wrench was ready. he grabbed numbers’s knees and yanked him closer, numbers’s hips sliding roughly against the cheap sheets. he rubbed the head of his cock along numbers’s cunt and said _you ready, little bitch?_ numbers flicked him off, and that was answer enough for him. wrench plunged inside him, no hesitation. numbers couldn’t help the yelp that escaped him.

wrench was so annoyingly good at sex. it made numbers angry, how good he was at it - it wasn’t fucking fair that wrench was his first, his benchmark. he glared up at wrench as they fucked, and wrench glared back. _what?_ he said. _what, little slut? problem?_

numbers shook his head and looked away. or, he tried to. wrench grabbed his chin and forced him to look at him.  _ what? _ he said with one hand. he let go of numbers’s chin.  _ been a while since you had it like this, i bet. _

numbers bit his lip and let his eyes wander off to the side, the most he could manage with wrench’s vicelike grip on his face. he hated that it had been a while. he hated that the last time he’d had sex it had been with a guy that could pass for wrench only if wrench had been described to a stranger, and that stranger had to find a man that matched the basic traits: tall, quiet, red-haired, beautiful arms. he hated that he fucked any guy he could find that reminded him of wrench, if they would have him in the first place. he hated that he was always just looking for the familiarity of his arms, his hair, his scent - the sound of his hands clashing as he signed. the things that put him at ease, the things he knew like how he  _ knew  _ he was a man.

wrench grabbed his chin again and shook his head in his hand, against the pillow. _look at me,_ he signed. _how bad do you want it? tell me._

“you’re being really fucking annoying,” numbers said, looking at the lamp to try and burn his tears away before wrench noticed, god forbid. “you’re being really annoying and you should stop fucking talking. i hate it.” he peeked back at wrench.

wrench stared down at him, one eyebrow raised, the other flat over his eye.

_stop talking,_ numbers signed, _just fuck me if you’re gonna._

wrench had a strange look in his eye, and he flushed. numbers tried to twist himself, to lay on his side so he could hide, but wrench caught him doing so and held him down with a powerful hand. he pressed in close so that they were nose-to-nose, and he did as he was told: he fucked numbers, fast and hard.

it felt good. it felt better than good, it felt fucking amazing. wrench was the only guy that ever fucked him right, the only guy that ever knew exactly what he wanted and how he wanted it. numbers tried to avoid wrench’s eyes but he couldn’t - every time he tried to look somewhere else, wrench would press his hand against his forehead to keep him in place.

numbers had no idea why wrench insisted on them looking at each other, especially when he knew wrench was just as pissed at him. he stared up at him, watching him as he worked. he was still so beautiful, even when he was pissed at numbers, even when he was holding numbers down, shoulders pinned to the bed.


	24. explicit: marriage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was born out of a chat i had with a friend about an au where wes is hetero married and has an affair with grady, who is a bit of a trainwreck. a less murdery inverse of my story "it's a bad idea..."
> 
> them getting married probably would've been the epilogue.
> 
> of course, dressing grady is my favorite past time.
> 
> (ben shapiro voice) "p-word" warning, for anyone out there sensitive to it.

as wes drove, grady admired the ring on his finger, golden against his skin and the steering wheel. grady looked down at his own hand, at his own band. married. he never really thought he’d be married. when he was a kid, he thought he might be, but not because he wanted to be. just because… that’s what he thought happened to girls. they grew up, got married, became moms. in the worst throes of his dysphoria he never thought he’d be married. he never thought he’d find someone, especially after… 

grady reached over and grasped wes’s hand on the stick shift for a moment. just a moment. wes glanced at him and half-smiled, eyes more on the road than on grady.

  
  


_wait here,_ grady said. wes nodded, shifting a little on the bed to be more comfortable. grady grabbed his suitcase and wheeled it into the bathroom with him.

grady locked the door behind him. he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and looked - a little rough around the eyes, but not too bad, especially considering the night before, their goddamn wedding night, and how fucking  _ gone  _ he’d been. drunk off his ass and high and horny as shit at his own reception. he grinned at himself.

he started to shed his clothes - shirt, jeans, socks, boxers. he bent and unzippered his suitcase, rummaging around, digging under the clothes. he felt it, soft and worn, and tugged it free.

bunched in his hand was a soft, aged wedding gown. well, less a gown than a dress - its skirt didn’t have much body, and the bodice was simple. the most bridal thing about it was the lace sleeves and lace trim on the skirt. he pressed his face into it and sniffed, ah - that stale, familiar smell of the thrift shop.

grady set the dress on the counter, beside the sink, and he unzippered the front pocket of his suitcase. he pulled out a little pair of white lace panties and put those on first, then from the same pocket he grabbed the little garter he’d bought, also made of white lace. he slid it on, up his leg to his thigh, and then he admired himself in the mirror. white was nice on him - it contrasted well with all his dark fucking hair - and the panties made his ass look cute, which was an achievement since he was, admittedly, lacking. he scratched at his belly and grabbed the dress with his other hand.

the dress fit just as it had in the thrift store dressing room - perfectly. it hung straight down his body with nothing to cinch the waist, and when he swayed it swayed with him. his tattoos, inky and dark, peeked through the lacy sleeves. the neckline showed off his collarbones, his faded  _ boundaries _ tattoo, and some of his chest hair.

grady ran a hand through his messy hair before he gave himself a grin and left the bathroom.

wes’s eyes lit up when they fell upon grady in the bathroom doorway. grady could barely bite back his smile as wes raked his eyes up and down grady’s frame.

_ wow! _ wes said.

_ it was for last night, _ grady said,  _ but we got sloshed. _

_ i’m glad i’m coherent, _ wes said.  _ i want to remember this forever. _

_ you like it? _

_ like it? _ wes stood up then, closing the distance between them with three steps. he grabbed grady’s hips, bunching up the fabric, and pressed his nose into his hair, near his ear. wes pulled grady against him, flush against his front, and grady could feel he was already a little hard. grady wrapped his arms around him, and let wes sniff him and hold him and fondle him. wes’s hands slid around to his ass and he squeezed a cheek in either hand and grady laughed.

wes took his hands back for a moment.  _ i love your laugh, _ he said.

grady’s heart jumped.  _ can’t hear it, _ grady said.

_ still love it, _ wes said,  _ love how it makes you look. love how happy you look. _

_ you’re so fucking sweet, _ grady said.

_you look so handsome,_ wes said. grady knew he didn’t especially - he had dark bags under his eyes from the night before and shit - but the fact that wes thought he did…

_i could marry you a hundred times, you fucking sweetheart,_ grady said.

wes smiled, far too fond and far too soft, his eyes full of love. grady grabbed his shirt and walked backward toward the bed, dress swaying around his ankles, tugging wes along with him.

grady sat on the edge of the bed, where wes had been. _get on your knees,_ he said.

wes raised his eyebrows but obediently knelt before grady.

_ surprise for you under my skirt _ , grady said.

_ besides your pretty pussy? _ wes said. grady almost slapped him.

_ just look, _ grady said,  _ before i put you in a leglock. _

_ that’s not what a leglock is. _

_ shut up! _

wes slid his hands along grady’s calves, up under his skirt. he spread his fingers out across his thighs and drew back a bit when he touched the garter. he looked up at grady. grady grinned at him.

wes dove under grady’s skirt. 

wes’s hands were somewhere around grady’s knees, and so when the garter started sliding down grady’s leg, for a moment he had no idea how it was happening until he very suddenly realized that wes was taking the garter off with his  _ teeth _ . grady tipped his head back and gave an almost-nervous, breathless laugh, and he felt the garter somewhere around his knee and then it was freefalling down his calf.

wes reappeared from under grady’s skirt.

_did you like it?_ grady said.

_loved it,_ wes said. _looks good on the floor. your dress will look good on the floor, too._

_ no, _ grady said.  _ you’re fucking me in this dress. _

_ am i? _ wes said. he massaged grady’s thighs, squeezing and rubbing.

_ you are, _ grady said.  _ but don’t get come on it. _

_ where do you want it, then? _ wes said.  _ your face? down your throat? inside? _

_ in me, _ grady said.  _ fuck yes, inside me. _

_ i am gonna fuck you so hard, sweetheart, _ wes said.  _ you’ll have to beg me to stop. _

wes went back to massaging grady’s soft, hairy thighs, rubbing with his thumbs. grady bit his lip as he watched him, as he sat with what wes just said to him. a little shiver ran down his spine and he felt himself, wet and throbbing in his little lace panties.

grady’s eyes fell to his left hand, where his wedding band sat on his finger. his heart sang to look at it, and he looked from it to wes on his knees, kissing and tracing his tongue in little swirling patterns across grady’s thighs.


	25. explicit: strap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wish wish wish i had the energy to finish this one. i love grady being a corny fuck during sex.

_that’s it, cowboy,_ grady said, _don’t need a saddle to ride me._

he grinned as wes rolled his eyes. grady returned his hands to wes’s slim, strong hips. his strap - his favorite, the pink one - was buried in wes’s ass as deep as it would go. wes was just perched on his lap, breathing slow and even and getting used to it.

he took his hands off grady’s shoulders and said _do you ever stop?_

_stop what_? grady said. _you know you love it. show me what you got, outlaw._

wes huffed and replaced his hands on grady’s shoulders. he rocked his hips upward and back down, and his face -

_you are so beautiful,_ grady said. he got sentimental when he topped. he couldn’t help it, it just got him feeling all sorts of ways. wes just looked so hapless when he got fucked, so vulnerable and soft and unlike the strong, tall, stoic man he presented himself as at work. _you like fucking yourself on me?_

wes absently nodded. he was going at a good, quick pace already, not bothering with slow and steady. grady raised his eyebrows, watching his boyfriend ride him fast and hard. _bucking B-R-O-N-C-O,_ he said. 


	26. nonexplicit: kidfic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> apologies, because this is sappy as fuck. i wish there was more kidfic with them. i wrote some - not just this one, there's others - but i don't know if i'll pick this one, specifically, back up. i'd like for others to read it and enjoy it, y'know. it's super unfinished, and it shows. eh! here it is!
> 
> i said it once, i'll say it again: SAPPY AS FUCK!

the closest they came to children was when they when they were eighteen, maybe nineteen, and the condom broke.

it was no one’s fault. it just… happened. one moment wrench was coming and the next he was shakily saying  _ it’s broken.  _ eyes wide, face ashen.

numbers just barely held himself together. wrench threw his clothes back on and ran out of the apartment, and he would spend the next few minutes sprinting to the corner store two blocks down just before closing time to get an overpriced pill while numbers sat curled in on himself on their bed.

after he swallowed the pill with some water, he cried. “i don’t want a baby!” he sobbed. “jesus! wes, if i have a baby, i’ll kill myself!” at that point, he would’ve. he was only a few months on t and he'd seen barely any change. he was at a low point. it was simply, genuinely, terrifying.

wrench held him, and it took nearly everything in his power to not push him away. he wanted to be alone, but he knew that if he was alone, he might do something he would end up regretting.

the next week passed, and nothing happened. numbers felt a bit of discomfort - aches and pains - for two days, and then nothing. they were both relieved.

it happened maybe once or twice more before numbers finally got a hysterectomy.

*

it was a normal job. a typical job. the guy was dead almost as soon as they walked in the door, bleeding out on his kitchen floor. wrench holstered his gun and set about cleaning up while numbers began to stalk through the house, clearing rooms and looking for valuables.

the downstairs was clear, and there was no basement, so numbers ascended the stairs. there were three rooms upstairs, a bathroom and two closed doors. numbers nudged the door to the left open. it was a bedroom, still and silent. he paced through it, kicking the closet door open with his foot. still nothing.

after he rifled through the drawers, he headed across the hall to the final room.

numbers heard wrench working down below in the kitchen as he entered the final room. the walls were a light blue, and mounted on them were a spate of little pastel animals. numbers snorted. a kid. there were stuffed animals displayed in one corner, a little activity table, a changing table. book. a toy box. more of the room was revealed as he opened the door, and when he stepped inside, he almost dropped his gun.

there, laying asleep in the crib, was a child, and numbers’s blood ran cold.

he nearly dropped his gun, but he recovered. he tore out of the room and ran down the stairs and found wrench dropping the body onto the tarp they’d brought.

_what?_ wrench said.

for a moment, numbers’s hands were frozen and he couldn’t say anything. he just stared at wrench, whose expression grew panicked.

_what’s wrong?_ he said.

_there’s a baby,_ numbers said.

_a baby?_ wrench said.

_upstairs,_ numbers said, _in a crib. it’s asleep. what the fuck?_

_fargo didn’t give us anything about a baby,_ wrench said.

_what fucking idiot did they have doing surveillance?_ numbers said. he ran his gloved hands through his hair, pulling it free from the product that flattened it. _what are we gonna do?_

*

numbers held the baby in his arms, staring down at her. no, she wasn’t a baby. all the clothes they’d taken from the closet were twelve months. she was a toddler, or on the cusp of it. her hands laid against her belly, and her chest rose and fell so slowly…

eventually, wrench came back from the bathroom, smelling of their soap and shampoo, but numbers paid him no mind. he listened to him walk over to the couch and felt him take a seat beside them, but numbers couldn’t take his eyes away from the little girl sleeping in his arms, against his chest. she’d slept through almost everything. numbers wondered when she would wake up. what they would  _ do  _ when she woke up.

he felt wrench’s hand on his shoulder. finally, he looked over at his partner.

_she’s cute,_ wrench said.

numbers nodded.

_ cuter than you. _

numbers grimaced. his hands were busy, so he couldn’t do much. “fuck you,” he mouthed. wrench grinned, and gently ran his fingers along the baby’s belly.

*

“see papa.”

“we can’t see papa right now, buddy. he’s busy.”

“papa.”

“do you listen?” numbers chuckled. he bounced jo in his arms. “repeat after me: papa busy.”

“papa busy.”

“good job.”

numbers took a deep breath and sat on the porch swing. the sun was setting, and wrench was away on a job. alone.

they’d had the baby - jo - for a year. they didn’t know her birthday, so it became the day they shot her father in the head and took her home with them. she had her chubby arms around numbers’s neck. he sniffed her soft, dark hair.

they got the documents guy at fargo to help them. mr. letters. he was the best at what he did - when numbers looked at his birth certificate and jo’s custom job side by side, he couldn’t tell a difference, besides that birth certificates had changed a little bit in the thirty-seven years since he’d been born. letters got them everything they needed - a social number, birth certificate, adoption papers. and he was scared shitless of wrench, so it was all free.

“you hungry?” he said.

“no,” she said.

“oh, you know you’re hungry…,” numbers mumbled. “should we have pasta?”

“no,” she said. “tawberry.”

“can’t just have strawberries… papa would get annoyed with me.”

numbers ran a hand along her back. he and wrench traded off. wrench would do a job, then numbers. they kept swearing that the next one would be the last, but kids were expensive, even just one, but god, they both wanted out. she wasn’t even theirs, not really, but she laughed when numbers tickled her and she signed back when wrench talked to her, and every day numbers knew that he would kill to keep her safe.

“papa home?”

“tomorrow, buddy,” numbers said. he sympathized. he hated it when wrench was gone. the farm house - empty enough as it was, since they’d only just bought it - felt even emptier when he was away.

just then, though, their car came curling around the bend of their long, twisty driveway. numbers stood up. wrench parked and killed the engine and got out.

numbers was smiling until his eyes fell upon the haphazard bandage on wrench’s forehead and the way he was walking with a limp. jo smiled her tiny, gap-toothed smile and didn’t seem to notice his gait or the bandage. she never seemed to notice those things, the stitches and the bandaids and the splints. it was a blessing.

wrench made it to the porch. “papa,” jo said. he kissed her head and leaned away when she reached for him.

_papa hurt,_ he said to her, and his eyes jumped to numbers’s before he walked into the house.

“will you sit and wait for us?” numbers said as he followed wrench into the house. “with your friends? while i help papa?”

he set jo down on the carpet in the living room, where her stuffed animals, a bear and a lion, sat against the couch. she looked at him before throwing her fists in the air, rocking them back and forth: _yes yes yes yes yes yes._

numbers hurried up the stairs. wrench was in their bathroom, peeling the bandage back from his forehead. numbers watched him through the mirror. the bandage fell into the sink, and there over his eyebrow was an ugly red and black gash.

“holy shit,” numbers mumbled. _what happened?_

wrench shook his head. _nothing,_ he said. _help me clean it?_

wrench sat on the toilet and numbers stood above him, dabbing at the gash with a cotton ball drenched in rubbing alcohol. he barely twitched. it was a shallow cut - it looked far worse than it was. numbers didn’t even have to bust out the needle and thread.

_and what’s up with the…?_ numbers asked after applying a new, clean bandage. he imitated the way wrench had walked, limping around the bathroom.

_fell,_ wrench said. _out a fucking window._

numbers rubbed his own forehead, then pinched the bridge of his nose. “christ,” he said. it made him ache that he hadn’t been there for whatever the fuck happened, that he hadn’t been watching wrench’s back or taking the fall himself, but… 

“daddy.”

numbers just barely heard her little voice drifting up the stairs. “buddy?” he said.

“daddy come.”

numbers turned to wrench, who was easing himself out of his jacket and shoes. wrench jerked his head in the direction of the stairs. numbers left the bathroom.

“yes, buddy?” numbers said when he made it back to the living room. jo was laying on the ground with the lion, practically squeezing the stuffing out of it.

“hungry,” she said.

“i knew you were hungry,” numbers said. “shit-for-brains.”

“papa?” she said.

“papa hurt,” numbers said, echoing what wrench had told her. “he’ll come down in a minute.”

“okay,” she said in a very firm tone. she sat up on her knees, then stood, cradling her lion. she toddled off toward the kitchen, ahead of numbers. numbers followed.

by the time wrench, in a t-shirt and sweatpants, hobbled into the kitchen, jo was on her fourth strawberry, meticulously cut into a million pieces even though she had plenty of teeth and could chew them herself. she bounced in her seat when he came in the room. he waved at her, smiling despite the ache numbers could so plainly see on his face.

_miss you,_ jo said, a sentiment she signed far too well. numbers felt himself wilt a little bit - even with scaling back their jobs, they spent far too much time away from her. from each other.

_missed you too,_ wrench said. _did you keep daddy safe while i was gone?_

she grabbed lion’s paw and waved it. _yeah,_ she said.

wrench patted her head as he sat down opposite her. jesus, his whole hand was bigger than her head… it made numbers profoundly sad, how small she was, how helpless. but it also lit a fire under him, a desire to protect her, to nurture her. numbers knew from a young age he wasn’t fit to be a mother, but when he realized that he was probably better suited to be a father…

_what should we eat for dinner?_ wrench said.

_pasta,_ she said.

wrench looked at numbers. numbers shrugged. _whatever,_ he said. _i can make that. you should just sit. you’re all fucked up._

_not fucked up,_ wrench said.

_i’m making dinner,_ numbers said.

_it’s pasta anyway,_ wrench said, _hard to fuck up._

_ oh, fuck you. _

*

the door creaked open, a high sound. grady was instantly on alert before he remembered where he was and who he was. wes’s arm was heavy over him, their bodies warm under the blankets.

“daddy?”

grady propped himself up on his elbow. wes didn’t stir beside him. dead asleep, of course. “buddy? it’s two in the morning,” he said, squinting across the room at her silhouette in the doorway.

her voice came again, thick with tears. “i had a nightmare,“ she sobbed.

grady’s heart dropped. “get in here,” he said.

jo hurried into the room and climbed onto the bed. grady shoved wes to the other side of the bed and he barely made a sound. grady helped jo into the blankets.

“what the hell?” he said. “where’s lion and bear?”

“i was too scared,” jo said, “i left them in my bed…”

grady patted her head, laying back down. “that’s okay,” he said.

she curled up to him, which was a little strange. whenever she slept in bed with them, which was more often than grady would’ve liked, she was all over wes. grady couldn’t blame her, he usually was too, albeit for different reasons. she didn’t tend to cuddle up to grady, but now she wrapped her skinny little arms around his middle and buried her head in his abdomen.

jo was a tough kid, at least outside of her little bed. she was a great shot with the bb gun wes had gotten her so grady would stop using their real guns to show her how to shoot. she barely cried when she scraped her knees and horror movies didn’t really phase her, except for when she and grady watched _the exorcist_ and she shook beside him and said “is that gonna happen to me?” like being possessed was part of puberty.

grady, around a mouthful of popcorn, said “no, buddy, we’re jewish.” and that seemed to put her mind at ease.

“was it that bad?” grady said, running his hand along her back.

she made a little whining noise. “yeah…” she mumbled.

“well, what happened?”

“there was a knife… and daddy, you got… and the knife, and there was a wolf, and…”

her voice got more strangled as she spoke. grady put wrapped his arms around her and squeezed. “shush,” he said. “forget i asked.”

grady alternated between stroking her hair and her back until she fell back asleep, her little hiccuping sobs quieted. it took him a while to follow suit. he stared across the bed at wes, who was completely oblivious.

a knife and a wolf… grady figured it was normal for kids to have dreams where something bad happened to their parents, at least, he tried to tell himself it was normal. he didn’t know shit about kids. _you’ve been out of it for a while,_ he thought, _like three years now. and she’s not fucking psychic. she’s a kid._ but it still left him feeling unsettled as he laid there in bed with his kid and his husband. eventually, he fell into a fitful sleep.

grady woke in the morning to an empty bed, which he expected and was grateful for. he rolled onto his belly and stretched out. as he laid there, he strained his ears to listen, and he heard the faint sound of bowls being set on the counter. 

“wait for me,” he mumbled into the pillows. “i want cereal too.”

he listened to the sound of pouring, and the sound of feet walking away. eventually the television turned on, but after a second the volume was cut. when jo watched tv with wes, she insisted on muting it. “it’s not fair if i can hear it and he can’t,” she explained to grady. “fairness” was some bullshit she was learning in school. but the captions on their tv gave her a leg up on the other kids - she could already recognize a lot of words - so it all balanced out, in grady’s opinion.

somehow, grady managed to peel himself out of bed. he put one of wes’s sweatshirts on and went to take a piss. he sat there with the door open, unafraid of the kid walking in on him. it was saturday morning, and she and wes would be glued to that tv for at least two hours.

“buddy,” he called out.

“daddy?” she called back.

“tell papa it’s shot day.”

he flushed and washed his hands. “papa said he knows,” she said.

“tell him to get his ass up here. don’t say please, either.”

grady leaned against the sink.

“he said to tell you you smell, daddy.”

“is he coming?”

“yeah!” her voice was closer than it was a moment ago. two sets of feet mounted the stairs, and then there was wes with jo at his heels.

_i don’t smell,_ grady said.

wes held the small of his back and kissed him. grady kissed back. wes’s mouth tasted like milk and sugar, and grady would be content to make out with him for a while, but jo was there trying to pull them apart. “it’s commercial!” she said.

“tv more important than your daddy?” grady said, kicking gently at her legs. “you don’t have to be here, little rat.”

“i wanna watch,” she said.

sometimes grady wondered if he should be concerned that their kid liked to sit on the bathroom floor and watch wes stab a needle into his thigh every week. other times, he shrugged and said fuck it.

as wes was washing his hands, jo said “why do you get shots, daddy.”

“i told you,” grady said as they both watched wes swab the top of the bottle with an alcohol wipe, “daddy’s hair will stop growing if he doesn’t get a shot.”

grady tugged the leg of his shorts up and wes swabbed the injection site.

jo watched with rapt attention as wes poked the needle into grady and shot him full of testosterone. if anything, it made doctor’s office visits with her easy. she never squirmed at the sight of a needle, and so getting her shots was easy. she clapped when wes pulled the needle free. wes dropped a kiss onto grady’s head and started cleaning up the kit.

“come on, buddy,” grady said. “still got cereal?”

“do you want some, daddy?” she said.

“absolutely. i’m fuckin’ hungry,” he said.


	27. nonexplicit: belly.

_i want to motorboat your belly,_ wes said.

“what the fuck,” grady said.

wes stuck his tongue out.

_you think you’re cute,_ grady said.

_i know i’m cute,_ wes said. he flexed, showing off his lovely, strong arms and his toned abdomen. grady pushed him, and with no effort at all he fell flat on his back on their bed.

wes reached and grabbed at grady’s little pudge. grady tried to shove him again, but wes was stronger.

_stop being a freak about my fat,_ grady said.

_stop being so sexy,_ wes said.

_this isn’t sexy,_ grady said, slapping his belly a few times for emphasis.

wes laughed. _sure it isn’t!_ he said.

_it’s not!_ grady said, feeling like a whining child.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> really tiny! wanted to keep it around. i love an older grady with a little bit of belly from eating his junk food...


	28. explicit: request (1).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> written at the request of my friend Venus_The_Space_Cadet, who wanted a lot of reciprocal oral. just... some detailed sex i guess.

the setting sun turned their bedroom a pleasant gold, fading sun rays filtering in through the light-colored curtains.  wes whimpered, and grady couldn’t help but grin. he pressed the tip of his tongue against wes’s asshole and wriggled it, teasing. wes brushed his fingers against grady’s forehead. grady licked him. wes groaned.

wes was an absolute slut for a good rimjob, and grady could give a pretty good rimjob, in his own opinion. it’d taken a while for them to reach that point in their shared sexual history - grady was demanding, and he knew it; he liked to have a good time, and he liked to let go, at least for a little while, and so being taken care of by wes was something he had a lot of time for. control wasn’t something grady looked for in sex. eventually, he realized he wanted to give wes that same experience, and so he bought his first harness and fucked wes for  _ hours _ , because he could, and he licked wes’s sore hole for ages afterward, and wes kissed him with no hesitation.

it was a lazy day for them, spent at home in faded t-shirts and their underwear, “watching” tv and getting just a little tipsy on a beer or two. they slept in - one in the afternoon subbing in for their usual wake-up time of nine in the morning at the latest. grady stuck his tongue out at wes and wes told him to put it to better use, and so on and so forth until they were in their bed, sunlight fading, grady’s mouth between wes’s legs.

grady pulled back for air, rubbing at wes’s slick hole with his thumb. he sat there admiring wes, flat on his back, one hand pulling his left leg back under his knee - grady held the other leg - the other scratching at his own skin near his hip. he’d discarded his boxers, of course, but he’d kept his t-shirt, faded and thin and full of holes along the shoulders. his cock was all red and pink, hard and tall and beautiful and dripping precum - jesus, what a sight. grady felt himself throb in his boxer briefs - he tried to rut against the mattress to alleviate some of his desire, but to no avail. he looked at wes again and, god, he looked like a fucking cherub, his eyes closed, biting his own lip. grady sighed dreamily and ducked back down between his thighs.

wes had a pretty asshole. when grady was young, maybe fourteen or so, he had a poor attitude about love. he couldn’t imagine being so thoroughly taken with someone that he might even think that their goddamn  _ asshole  _ was beautiful, but, then, there were a lot of things he couldn’t imagine when he was fourteen that came to pass in adulthood. wes’s asshole was just perfect - pink and soft, hair less like a dense forest (like grady’s - he loved t for a lot of things, but sometimes he thought he could do without the hairy ass) and more like the fuzz on a peach. to be fair, everything about wes was perfect, even the things grady couldn’t stand, so it was no surprise that his asshole - his fucking _asshole_ \- was perfect as well. grady set his tongue on the top of wes’s balls and trailed his tongue down over them, down his taint until he again found his hole. wes gave a little shiver as he traveled, and his spare hand found grady’s hair, and instead of grabbing and pulling he stroked, and grady all but purred.

grady pressed his tongue again against the center of wes’s hole, using his thumb to pull the skin back. he licked and licked, savoring the taste of him, letting go of wes’s leg so that he could use both hands to spread him out just that little extra bit so he could press his tongue inside and taste him -

very suddenly, grady found himself on his ass, having been unceremoniously ripped from between his partner’s legs. wes was sitting up, breathing heavy, his eyes all hazy and his cheeks so  _ god _ damn pink -

_you okay, big guy?_ grady said.

_shut up,_ wes said. _get over here and sit on my face._

a shiver racked grady’s spine. _you don’t have to tell me twice,_ he said, grinning. he could feel himself - throbbing and wet in his underwear. jesus, the things wes could do to him with just a few words and that _look_ -

_then why am i?_ wes said. _get over here. sit on my face._

_hold your horses, cowboy,_ grady said, _let me get my fuckin’ underwear off first._

wes grabbed a pillow and made himself comfortable, laying back and patiently folding his hands over his stomach while grady shimmied out of his boxer briefs. he couldn’t help but rub at himself a moment, trailing his fingers back to touch his own slick -

wes kicked at him. _that’s my job,_ he said.

_ stop being so goddamn needy, _ grady said.  _ what happened to that sweet angel whose asshole i was eating out? _

_ he decided he wanted to fuck his boyfriend with his tongue, _ wes said.

_ i was about to do that to  _ you _! _

_ if you had i would’ve come like a fountain. _

_ so why didn’t you let me! _

_ get up here! _ wes said.  _ i wanna cuddle your cock with my tongue! _

“jesus!” grady said. “you dirty motherfucker!”

grady shuffled up the bed on his knees, carefully parting his legs over wes’s neck before scooting that last bit forward so he was hovering over his face.

_your dick looks tasty,_ wes said.

_you’re so dirty today,_ grady said. _what’s gotten into you?_

wes shrugged beneath him. he raised his hands and held grady’s hips, stroking his hipbones with his thumbs. grady almost melted into the sensation.

_you want?_ grady said.

wes nodded.

“okay,” grady breathed. he lowered himself gradually until his calves were touching his thighs and wes’s mouth was touching his cunt. immediately, wes’s tongue was on him, licking his cock and taking it in his hot hot mouth.

grady reached forward and wrapped each hand around the metal bars of their headboard. already, it was so much. wes ate him out very well, and very often, but it was still so overwhelming. he never could really gather his bearings. he listened to the soft sounds wes was making around his cock, little sounds, and he rocked his hips on wes’s face. wes was only too glad for that - his hands around his hips urged him on, helping rock him back and forth. wes was such a fucking freak, so horny for grady rubbing his cunt all over his face.

wes stilled him, and trailed his tongue down from his cock along his folds until he met grady’s wet hole. he rubbed his tongue over grady’s hole, over and over, tracing it. god, it made grady shudder. wes gripped his hips tight and pressed up into him, fucking him like he said he would.

grady whined. wes’s tongue was so wet, like he was drooling over it, which - grady shuddered. he could just barely tell what was himself, his own wetness, and what was wes’s saliva. it was intoxicating. “baby,” grady mumbled, squeezing the bars of the headboard. he imagined ripping them away, if he were just a bit stronger, maybe. he grinned at the idea of it, tipping his head back and grinding against wes’s face and tongue.

it was fucking luxurious, sitting on his handsome boyfriend’s face and rubbing his cunt on his mouth. grady didn’t often want control during sex, he so often wanted to let go, but this - having wes lave his tongue over him, having wes worship him… it was indescribable. he let himself drop his mouth open and let out a long sigh, almost a moan.

he felt one of wes’s hands migrating from his hip across his ass, following the line of his crack before he found his other hole. wes stroked his fingers over it and grady purred.

an idea struck grady very suddenly, and he gave a breathless chuckle. he raised himself back up on his knees, letting go of the headboard, hovering over wes’s face. wes looked a little cross, and jesus  _ christ  _ his face was all kinds of wet. grady figured he was annoyed grady’d just ruined his groove. his hands tried half-heartedly to tug grady back down.

_ hey, _ grady said,  _ let’s sixty-nine. _

_ who’s on top? _ wes said.

_ me,  _ grady said.

_ as long as you keep your snatch in my face,  _ wes said,  _ do whatever you want. _

grady rocked his hips minutely, wishing for friction on his cock and finding none.  _ you’re such a goddamn freak, _ he said.  _ why do you like it so much? _

wes stuck his tongue out.  _ tasty,  _ he said.  _ pink. _

_ freak, _ grady said.  _ i love you. _

wes winked up at him.

grady re-positioned himself, turning so he was facing down wes’s body, looking at his dick and his thighs, mouth watering. he made himself comfortable, settling back over wes’s face before laying himself down and snuggling up to his partner’s big pink cock. he felt wes’s arms around his hips, and there was his tongue again, licking like there was no tomorrow, rubbing along his folds, lapping at his dick.

grady groaned, running his own tongue along wes’s dick. he stuck two fingers in his own mouth and slathered them in saliva, popping them out and wasting no time in prodding at wes’s still-damp hole.

wes let out a little noise, humming into grady’s cunt. grady breathed on wes’s cock, tracing a vein with the tip of his tongue, circling his hole with his two fingers at the same time. he wrapped his mouth around it as he pressed his first finger inside wes, reveling in the choked noise he made against his cunt.

it didn’t take long for either of them, then. grady could barely suck wes’s cock - he kept whining, kept getting distracted by wes’s magic tongue on him, in him. after a while wes mimicked him and pressed two fingers inside - grady was (fucking  _ dripping _ ) wet enough that he could take two at the same time easy. but what grady lacked in giving head, he made up for in fingering wes, adding his second finger in no time, always amazed at the heat of him, at how hot and smooth he was inside. 

wes came very suddenly, making a noise  _ just  _ quieter than a yelp. grady swallowed, because of course he would, and just kept going, fingering him through his orgasm. grady took a little extra, but between wes’s renewed vigor in sucking his dick and the brutal way he pumped his fingers in and out…

grady rolled off of wes, panting hard, trying to catch his breath. his mouth tasted like cock and come, and his cunt was so sore and so wet, mostly from wes’s mouth. wes panted beside him, his cock flagging, falling soft and floppy against his belly.

the sun had long since set, and they sat in the blue-dark together. grady felt wes’s hand rubbing up and down his calf, and he managed to prop himself up on his elbows to look at him.

wes smiled up at him. he waved.

grady waved back.


	29. explicit: "sexy" abcs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wanted to do a short little thing. i love shit like this, so i had to do one. some are silly, some are sexy-ish, i guess?

**1\. ass**

grady smacks wes’s ass as he passes on his way to the kitchen.

wes turns and winks at him. grady snorts and swats after him again, even though wes is out of range.

  
  


**2\. beard**

grady rubs his beard against wes’s chest and looks up at him.

 _do that,_ wes says, _but do it between my thighs._

  
  


**3\. cuffs**

wes doesn’t like being bound. hates it, has had nightmares about it. grady, on the other hand -

he’s shackled at the wrists by a pair of cold handcuffs they stole from a cop, once upon a time. he’s kneeling before their bed, where wes is perched on the edge, stroking grady’s hair as he messily sucks his dick, no hands to steady himself.

grady looks up at him, bats his lovely dark lashes. _pretty bastard,_ wes thinks, pulling his hair sharp enough to sting.

  
  


**4\. dick**

grady’s proud of his dick. he grew it himself, after all.

 _look at you, baby,_ wes says. grady’s naked, sprawled out on their bed, a shit-eating grin on his face, one of his legs bent at the knee, exposing himself. _so big. so pretty._

 _yeah?_ grady says.

 _yeah,_ wes says. he rubs a thumb along grady’s cock and feels him shiver. _real fucking pretty._

  
  


**5\. edging**

wes can tell grady’s frustrated, mostly because he’s glaring daggers at wes, his face all red.

 _this sucks,_ grady says.

 _you wanted to try it,_ wes says. _ready?_

grady flips him off. wes shrugs and fires up the vibrator again, pressing it just barely against grady’s cock.

  
  


**6\. fur**

wes has a vague, amorphous fantasy of laying grady down in front of a roaring fire and fucking him real nice and slow on a rug made of some kind of animal pelt. he thinks about it almost every time grady wears that ugly fur coat of his.

 _what’re you looking at?_ grady says.

wes twitches a bit, crashing back down to earth. _nothing,_ he says.

  
  


**7\. grooming**

wes can be so fucking annoying.

“get off!” grady barks, trying to shrug him off. wes is persistent, though. he just slides his hands from grady’s hips around until they’re caressing his ugly little paunch, fingers toying with the waistband of his boxer briefs.

grady doesn’t need this - he’s trimming his fucking beard and just trying to, like, _live._

 _would you leave me alone!_ grady signs in the mirror after setting down his scissors.

 _come on,_ wes says. _i love watching you do this shit._ he rubs against grady and, yeah, grady can feel that wes loves watching him do this shit. he sighs and shoves at wes again.

“go away,” he grumbles.

  
  


**8\. horny**

wes, shirtless and sweaty, clad only in his jeans and work boots, grabs grady off the couch with both arms, hoisting him up and carrying him off to their bedroom, kissing him almost the whole way.

  
  


**9\. impact**

_no,_ wes says.

 _please? please?_ grady says.

 _i don’t want to do that to you,_ wes says.

 _don’t be a bitch!_ grady says. _please? can we please try it, baby? please?_

his begging would be sexy if it weren’t motivated by a desire to have wes slap him silly. wes grimaces.

_if you don’t stop…_

_what?_ grady says. _what’ll you do, big guy?_

 _goad me all you want,_ wes says. _you’re not tricking me._

he watches grady kick at the leg of their kitchen table and storm off, pissed.

  
  


**10\. jizz**

grady has a glob of jizz clinging to his eyebrow and he has never looked cuter.

 _did i get it all?_ he says, a tissue in his other hand.

wes taps his own eyebrow. he grins as he watches grady dab at it.

  
  


**11\. kinks**

kinks are entirely grady’s realm, for the most part. he likes that hard stuff, spanking and getting choked and getting slapped. he likes dirty talk, he likes dressing up in ladies’ underwear. he likes toys.

wes just likes grady.

  
  


**12\. lube**

lube is grady’s best friend.

even when he’s thirty, eight years deep on t, he can still get pretty wet on his own, considering. but the lube will always help. wes is slathering his cock with it, and his dick shines in the dim light of their bedroom. grady grins.

 _ready?_ wes says before swiping his thumb along grady’s cunt.

grady meets his eyes and nods.

  
  


**13\. masturbate**

the first thing they ever did together, besides make out and dry hump in the backseat of grady’s mom’s car when they borrowed it, was jerk off together.

they were nineteen. grady didn’t want to take anything off, so he sat there with his clothed thigh pressed against wes’s, his hand sweaty between his boxers and his cunt.

wes’s dick was nice as _fuck,_ pink and smooth and, like, fucking pretty, and watching him work it was gonna be good wank material for _months ._

they looked at each other, grady with two fingers shoved up inside himself, his other hand busy on his dick, and they kissed and kissed.

  
  


**14\. nipples**

_you’d be cute with a nipple ring,_ grady says.

 _i’m not crazy like you,_ wes says, smirking at him in the mirror. grady sneers. _no nipple rings for me._

and he turns around and flicks the end of the barbel that shoots through grady’s left nipple.

  
  


**15\. orgasm**

wes likes him this way. his cheeks are red and his eyelids are pink and his brow is all screwed up. his o-face is cute, a little grimace on a blushing face - his nostrils flare and he bares his teeth a moment.

wes will take care of himself shortly. he nudges grady along his orgasm, kissing his neck and tugging his dick and rubbing his nipple. after a moment he feels grady’s hand, a little weak, on his shoulder.

he lifts his head and meets grady’s eyes, all half-lidded. he kisses wes, all wrung out.

  
  


**16\. punishment**

_let the punishment fit the crime,_ wes says. y _ou came before i said you could. now you won’t be allowed to come for twenty-four hours._

 _okay,_ grady says, _fuck this. i thought this would be sexy. i’m not letting you tell me i can’t come when i want._

 _thank god,_ wes says. _this was stupid as hell. if i wanted to punish you for anything i’d just throw your junk food out._

  
  


**17\. quiet**

wes is perfectly fine at keeping silent. it’s grady he’s worried about.

he’s biting so hard on his hand, he’s bound to draw blood. wes tries to go faster, to lose himself in thoughts of warmth and dirtiness, how sexy grady looked on his cock, how he looked like he might cry - but he didn’t come. he watched as grady let go of his own hand and his mouth curved around what was surely a sound louder than a whisper.

wes saw shadows underneath the changing room door. fuck.

  
  


**18\. rimjob**

wes makes the sweetest noises when he gets eaten out.

grady licks him harder, more insistent, and listens to his pretty whimpers, feeling a hot surge of pride. not for the first time that evening, he presses his tongue inside and fucks him with it, and he listens to wes sigh.

  
  


**19\. strap**

the week grady came home from the sex shop with his first harness, he didn’t get fucked once. or, maybe he did, he couldn’t remember - the point is he fucked wes every single day that week, again and again.

he watched wes shudder, coming hands-free with grady balls-deep inside him, nails digging into grady’s shoulders.

“jesus,” grady’d said to himself, huffing and puffing, “why didn’t we do this earlier? i didn’t know you were this desperate for cock.”

wes, oblivious, happily nuzzled his neck, clinging to him as grady fucked him through the aftershocks of his orgasm.

  
  


**20\. toys**

_what’s happening?_ wes says. he’s standing in the doorway of their bedroom, where grady has all their toys - all _grady’s_ toys, if wes is being honest - laid out on their bed. there’s his harnesses, a few vibrators, a few dildos, a pair of handcuffs, a set of rope… 

_organizing,_ grady says. he looks serious.

 _you’re silly,_ wes says. _dinner’s ready._

  
  


**21\. underwear**

wes stepped into the little room off the kitchen that housed their washer and dryer. grady, busy reading a file from work about their next assignment, had asked him to “put the wet shit in the other thing.”

he opened the washer and saw wet, dark clothes plastered to the sides of the machine. he reached in and grabbed a clump, tossing it in the open dryer.

he dropped something as he did his task. wet against his foot was a pair of his own boxers and a pair of those fancy little panties grady liked to dress up in.

wes snickered as he bent to gather them both. he chucked them in the dryer.

  
  


**22\. virgins**

wes wouldn’t have had it any other way.

in his truck bed, which was covered end-to-end with a thick comforter, under the stars in the middle of a field, right by a tree. he looked down at grady beneath him and saw the cosmos in his eyes.

  
  


**23\. wes**

“oh, wes,” grady sighs when wes goes down on him.

“shit, wes - fucking hell,” grady groans when wes fucks him.

“ugh, _wesley_ ,” grady says when he eases his plastic dick inside wes, his hips kissing wes’s ass.

“wes…” grady purrs when wes kisses his cheek as he gets out of bed in the morning, leaving grady to fall back asleep.

  
  


**24\. xxx**

they went to a porn theater once, when they finally moved to fargo. they were young, like twenty-one, grady struggling to grow a beard, wes clean-shaven almost all the time.

they sank low in their seats and barely contained themselves. it was dogshit right away - the lady’s tits were big as balloons and completely immobile, and the guy looked like no person that had ever existed before.

they got kicked out, eventually. the other audience members were having a hard time getting off with the two of them chortling in their seats, grady unashamed in his heckling of the film’s oblivious stars.

they found a bar on the way home and got drunk instead.

  
  


**25\. yearning**

_i wanted you so bad that first time,_ grady says. _in your truck._

they’re laying in bed. reminiscing.

wes kisses grady’s knuckles. _wanted you too,_ he says.

 _i thought i’d die if we didn’t,_ grady says.

 _well, look at you,_ wes says. _alive._ and he leans down and kisses him.

  
  


**26\. zipper**

_this sexy idiot,_ grady thought as he dropped to his knees in front of wes, running both hands up his clothed thighs, reaching for his zipper.


	30. explicit: catboy smut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let me say that firstly i am not a furry and secondly... october is for catboys. it started a while ago in the groupchat - we had the classic conversation: "which one is a weeb, which one is a furry?" we decided numbers ("nyumbers") was definitely the furry. this is what spawned my awful fic about wrench finding out numbers is a furry. recently, partly in jest, partly... kind of seriously, i've been really into catboys. and by "really into" i mean i doodle some men with cat ears, including numbers. so that's what this is, a little bit of catboy smut. it reads like normal except numbers has a tail a little bit, and cat ears, and wrench calls him "pretty kitty." reading through it, it's super pedestrian. except numbers is a catboy.
> 
> this fic is literally for no one but me but i liked the way i wrote the smut so much. so. if you wanted more smut, the monkey's paw definitely curled for you as i wrote this. this is really dirty, in a literal(?) sense and a... pornographic sense. i get nervous whenever i send anything really dirty like this into the world. oh well. don't make fun of me too much for this.
> 
> why didn't i just delete the catboy parts. that would've made this less embarrassing.

wes, with one arm around grady, ran his other hand down grady’s front until he found grady’s cock, which he stroked for a moment before moving on to grady’s hole, which was overflowing with wes’s come. he imagined the view briefly, his pubes matted with come, with wetness. grady whimpered as wes pressed two fingers inside him, playing with his messy aching hole. he felt his ears flatten against his head, felt his tail twitch.

“god, you know how to show a guy a good time…” grady mumbled. wes’s other hand, which rested somewhere on his side, rubbed gently at him. “love it when you come in me, wes.” grady stroked his tail along wes’s side, tickling his ribs, content.

wes kept fingering him at a steady, firm pace. his cunt was making a terrible, dirty squelching noise that was thoroughly embarrassing but also a massive turn-on - he was so wet, not only from his arousal but also from wes’s come dribbling from him. jesus. grady grunted, clutching at wes’s arm.

he felt wes’s mouth somewhere near his temple, and then he was peppering grady’s head and ears with light kisses. wes nudged at grady's ear, nosing along it, rubbing against the soft fur. grady hummed, so turned on, so  _ ready _ . he felt wes pull his fingers back a bit, pulling them out and resting them on the rim of grady’s hole and spreading it out. grady could cry - wes’s other hand found its way to grady’s cunt and he prodded at it, one hand holding him open, the other pressing inside. fuck, grady felt so fucking dirty, so exposed, so  _ bad _ .

wes stopped stretching him once he slid inside with the fingers of his other hand. instead he used that second hand to play with grady’s aching cock. grady’s dick was roughly as long as his thumb - he got lucky, his dick growing slowly but steadily over the years. wes stroked at him with a finger, slow and deliberate, until grady thumped one of his heels against the bed and whipped his tail against wes’s side and wes chuckled and set to him with more than just one teasing touch. he stroked him in earnest, still fingering him with his other hand, faster than before, the squelching sound louder, more perverse.

grady finally felt wes growing hard again. he felt it against his back, wes’s cock stirring and filling back out, growing harder and thicker. grady could cry - everything felt so good, everything felt perfect. “i want it,” grady mumbled, “again, i want you, wanna feel you again.” he squirmed, unsure if wes knew why, if wes knew how badly he was wanting. wes had to know - there was no way he didn't.  


grady felt himself getting closer and closer on wes’s relentless fingers until he felt that faint tingling in the soles of his feet, and he was desperately trying to meet the thrust of wes’s fingers, meet the tug of his hand on grady’s straining cock. his head fell back against wes’s shoulder and wes kissed him everywhere he could reach, his cheek and his temple and his ear and his brow, and, oh, christ, it was coming, he was coming -

  
*****   
  
  


_fuck me again, big guy,_ grady said, staring up at wes with heavy, half-lidded eyes. _put that fuckin’ rod in me again._

wes, sweet as punch, kissed him and said _i’d love to. how bad you want it?_

grady was all too happy to cooperate. _see how wet i am? so desperate for it. don’t even have to make me come with it, i just wanna feel it again, just wanna feel you fuck me so hard i can barely take it._

_how hard, pretty kitty?_ wes said.

grady let out a little whine that made him embarrassed for himself. it was pathetic, but he couldn't help it. he got all kinds of riled up when wes called him that. _you know,_ he said. _break this fucking bed for me, wes._

wes kissed him again, soft and full of love and desire and honesty. he rubbed at the soft skin right below grady’s belly button, rubbed at his soft belly, ran his fingers along his happy trail, always so enamored with grady's hair, especially given he didn't have nearly as much of it. _okay,_ wes blindly signed against his chest.

wes pulled back.

_what do i give you?_ wes said.

_the best,_ grady said.

_ what do you deserve? _

_ the best. _

_that’s right,_ wes rubbed his hard cock against grady’s thigh, and grady ached at how bad he wanted it. he shifted, settling between grady’s spread legs, and in one fluid motion he was inside grady again, warm and heavy and big, so fucking big, grady would never get over how goddamn big wes was and how good it felt having all of him inside. with wes in him again grady felt so perversely whole, like he’d been missing a piece. “fuck,” he grunted.  


wes, supported on his forearms along either side of grady’s head, kissed him. their kisses were wet, sloppy. wes licked his mouth and grady let him. their tongues met and danced around each other, fuck, even wes’s stupid tongue was perfect. as wes kissed him, he fucked him, fast and brutal and relentless. grady nibbled at wes’s lip, recklessly biting at him with his fangs, something grady knew wes loved. grady moaned as wes picked up his speed, fuck, he was probably getting close already.

grady squeezed wes’s shoulders and bit his mouth again. wes broke away and buried his face between grady’s neck and shoulder instead - that was one of his favorite spots to hide. he slowed, giving one, two, three more deep,  _ deep _ thrusts before he let a low, rumbling noise out, squeezing grady tight. grady grunted, rubbing his head against wes’s tucked against him. 

*****   
  


_love it when you’re all messy like this,_ wes said. _my spunk all over you._

_come kiss me,_ grady said, feeling slow and weak. _wanna kiss._

_okay, pretty kitty,_ wes said. he played with grady’s messy, sore, red-hot cunt as they kissed, grady laying prone, purring deeply.

_pretty kitty likes that?_ wes said, the fingertips of his right hand all wet, drops of cum clinging to them. _pretty kitty likes when i play with him like that?_

grady nodded, grabbing wes’s face, bringing him in for a kiss, and another kiss, and another. wes idly touched him, rubbing and stroking slow and soft and gentle. grady stroked his tail along wes’s side again.

_could fuck you for hours,_ wes said. _haven’t fucked your ass in a while._

grady shivered. _another time,_ he said. _i’m so tired… clean me up?_

wes gave grady another peck before he obediently sat himself between grady’s legs so that he could lap at his messy, messy cunt.

grady purred as wes licked him clean, sleepy and content. his tail brushed against wes’s head, flicking back and forth. wes’s hands cradled his sides, his thumbs rubbed at his hairy belly and his scars - his healed-over stab wound, his old appendectomy scar. wes licked his cock, tongue all soft and gentle, not too much, not too little. grady felt a sudden surge of thankfulness, of love. he glanced down and happened to meet wes’s eyes as he glanced up, and wes’s eyes crinkled like he was smiling, and grady couldn’t contain the fond grin that unraveled across his own face.

“god, i love you, big dummy,” he mumbled once wes had closed his eyes again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh well! rest assured this is the only catboy porn i will ever write. at least you don't have to suffer through 30(+) chapters of this!


	31. nonexplicit: halloween shorts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i did this last year, too, where i tried to write wrenchers through several halloweens they spent together. i failed again this year. maybe someday i'll follow through.

**i. 1981**

grady woke up with a groaning stomach. he moaned and rubbed his face against the pillow under his cheek, opening his eyes and blinking against the harsh white daylight. _too much candy,_ he thought.

he smacked his own belly and rolled over. he was met with wes’s face, his eyes still closed, his breath whistling on every exhale. grady laid there, curled up tight under the quilt and afghan they shared, staring at him.

it’d been a fruitful evening. they dispatched from grady’s house after his mother snapped a photo, grady pointing his shiny toy gun at the camera, wes with his mouth open, showing off the little fangs that clung to his canines. grady’s mother had begged him to be “something normal this year” - whatever that was - but michael corleone was still the coolest motherfucker grady had ever seen, and al pacino was easy on the eyes.

grady’d run up to kids from their class as they crossed paths, pointing his toy gun in their faces and shouting _bang!_ most of them, like geraldine marshall and sam cavendish, just yelled at him to stop being an asshole. some, like mick carpenter, chased him and wes three blocks before he gave up, telling them to “buzz the fuck off.”

it felt like there was five pounds of candy in their bags. on the walk home grady’s hands ached with effort. it felt good - it felt final, which grady figured was fitting. they were thirteen. it was time to let go, time to move on, but grady didn’t want to. he wanted to run around the night with wes’s hand in his forever, wanted to point his toy gun at adults and say _trick or treat_ and have them laugh and give him candy for no good reason, just because they were supposed to.

they made it back to the levin kids’ treehouse, now the exclusive domain of grady and wes. there were already pillows and blankets and a flashlight - they’d prepared before they left. they huddled up shoulder-to-shoulder and divided up their candy. grady liked most candy, his sweet tooth was pretty indiscriminate, but he hated milk duds and dots, and while wes didn’t especially love them, he was more tolerant of them than grady. in exchange grady gave wes all his reese’s cups, even though he liked them, too. he knew wes would inevitably share with him, even though grady would have already forked them all over.

_it’s just one of those things,_ grady thought as he stared at wes sleeping, _one of those things you do for me._

he reached out and, gentle as the breeze on a wheat field, traced wes’s jaw. wes didn’t even flinch.

  
  


**ii. 1985**

grady woke up with a horrific throbbing in his head and wes’s arms around his waist. he remembered at once that they’d both gotten so drunk that the world became a blur, so drunk that neither of them cared about the fact that they were making out in front of everyone, sat on the loveseat in regina lofgren’s musty basement. they didn’t often do that kind of thing in front of people. grady couldn’t take all the comments about his tits or his snatch or hooking up or “being a girl after all” or “thought you were a fag, wes?” but being drunk and being choked by the thick marijuana cloud that’d developed in the basement made grady do things he wouldn’t usually.

wes’s coat was their blanket. grady tried to burrow into wes’s chest, but he was already as close as he could be. “i wanna go home,” he mumbled into wes’s skin. he wanted an aspirin, he wanted his own bed, he wanted to scrub the disgusting taste out of his mouth. he yearned for a cigarette, he yearned for some fucking candy - a kitkat or a snickers to sate his empty belly, which he suddenly felt acutely.

he pulled back and peered up at wes’s sleeping face. the whiskers they’d drawn on his cheeks with rachael’s eyeliner were smudged and foggy, and somehow the fluffy wolf ears on his head had managed to cling to him even through sleep. grady’s costume, pedestrian as they come, had lost its jacket early in the night, and for the bulk of the evening he’d just looked like a jackass in a white t-shirt and jeans.

grady settled back down, their heads on one of the couch cushions, the shag carpet they laid on doing them a lot of favors, wes’s coat keeping them warm. grady could sense there were other bodies in the room - other partygoers, just as hungover as himself, just as tired.

grady closed his eyes and started to try to fall back asleep. he knew that wes wouldn’t be moved for hours, especially if he was hungover. going back to sleep was probably his best bet.


	32. explicit: first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a scrap of porn i wrote. they're supposed to be nineteen-ish. i usually imagine it took them a while before they did anything heavy together like this.

_show me what you do,_ wes said. _show me what you like. how you, you know, touch yourself._

grady’s breathing was shallow and fast. how he touches himself? he squeezed his knees together, trying to put pressure on his cunt, trying to force his arousal to subside. even with his makeshift binder and ratty t-shirt still on, he nonetheless felt exposed. he felt like a wire stripped down to its innards, gnarled copper and electrical currents once swathed in red plastic.

_show me,_ wes said again, and grady noticed how his left hand shook, how his cheeks were all pink, how his eyelids were heavy but his eyes were hopeful, earnest. he wanted to see. he wanted to know. _he wants to learn,_ grady thought, and he almost succumbed to a full-body shiver, _he wants to know so he can do it to you himself._

grady swallowed and nodded. he slowly parted his legs, and he watched wes draw his eyes downward to his cunt, framed in dark hair. grady slid his hand down his body, from his belly to his crotch to his dick, throbbing but shy, peeking out its hood. tentatively he touched it with two fingers, rubbing against it, pressing up into his own touch. he met wes’s eyes and just by doing so he could’ve passed out, it was so intense. he watched wes exhale.

_like that,_ grady said, taking his hand back, _and this._ he returned to his cunt and rubbed at his folds before sliding a finger all the way in, finding himself wet enough to take it easy. he fucked himself with it a bit, using his other hand to play with his dick, rubbing in an up-and-down, back-and-forth motion.

wes looked like he might explode, his cheeks were so red. grady could see the tent in his jeans and if he didn’t feel like his skin was on fire, if he didn't feel like he was burning, he might’ve laughed.

wes waved a hand to catch his attention.

_can i…?_ he said.

grady swore he was on fire, like he was a fucking marshmallow on a stick and someone had stuck him right in the middle of a campfire. he was sweating as he let out a shaky breath and nodded, not trusting his hands.

_you sure?_ wes said, hesitating. he looked concerned. maybe because of grady’s expression. he couldn’t see himself, but he was sure he must look feral.

_yes,_ grady said. _i want you to._

wes wasted no time. he scooted closer and reached for grady’s dick, settling his thumb over it and its hood. they locked eyes, wes trying to give a reassuring smile, grady breathing hard out his mouth. and then wes rubbed at him in a slow circular motion, and grady whined. the sensation of wes’s hand on him when before it had only ever been his own, the look in wes’s eyes as he stroked at him… wes tentatively took his unoccupied hand and set it to work, rubbing his thumb against grady’s hole before taking his index finger and sliding it in.


	33. explicit: request (2).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not necessarily explicitly a request - my friend Salometic has a thing for wrench bottoming, and i promised i'd provide. here's one of them

it started with wes in those tight jeans, perching himself on grady’s lap like he belonged there. which, to be fair, he did.  


_ you want something? _ grady said.

wes ground his ass against grady’s lap, leaning forward and kissing his neck slow and soft, his hips rocking. grady could feel him as he brushed against him, felt that he was all hard already in his tight ass jeans. grady felt his cock stir, pulsing and throbbing, pressed up against the front of his boxer briefs.

grady pushed wes away with a palm on his chest.  _ what’s gotten into you today? _ grady said.

_ you, soon,  _ wes said.

“hey, come on.”

_ just want you to fuck me, that a big deal? _

_ absolutely not -  _

_ then shut up and let’s get to it, okay? _

wes kissed him, hard and insistent, wanting. grady, suspicious though he was, found that he didn’t care why wes had come to him so suddenly wanting to get fucked. why look a gift horse in the mouth, after all. he kissed back, just as voracious, just as hungry. he reached around and grabbed wes’s ass with both hands, running his fingers over the rough denim, his cheeks a perfect handful in either palm.

  
*****

grady found that wes was already slick - he pressed a finger in and felt his hole yield under his touch, and he watched wes bite his lip.

“mm,  _ that’s  _ what you were up to,” grady mumbled, “touching yourself and shit, getting ready for it, fucking hell, you’re so fucking hot, wes, it’s not fair.” grady pressed a second finger in alongside the first and fingered wes in earnest, grinning at the sound of the soft noises he made, the little sighs that grady always loved to hear. 

he pulled his fingers free and nudged wes. wes looked at him.

_go get my dick,_ grady said.

_ which? _

_ whatever you want, just go. _

wes very carefully stepped backward, climbing off of grady’s lap. grady listened to his bare feet smacking against the hardwood as he headed to their bedroom. grady let out a deep breath, reaching to unbutton his pants and shimmy out of them. he resettled on the couch, naked from the hips down. he ran his fingertips through his pubes, combing through his thick patch of curls twice before he touched his cock. he groaned low in his throat. he used his other hand to scrub through his lips, rubbing at his aching hole. god, he was so wet.

he heard a rustling sound, and then wes’s feet against the floor again. grady withdrew his hands from himself, watching as wes came back into view, completely naked. his cock was so pretty, pink and tall and  _ full _ , grady almost wished he was the one getting fucked that afternoon. wes handed grady his harness and the dildo he chose, the blue one that was not unlike wes’s own, perfect in every way - just thick enough, just long enough. grady took a moment putting his harness on and hooking his cock into it.  _ lube me up?  _ grady said.

wes knelt before him on the couch.  _ hold on, _ wes said,  _ let me do this first. _ and he leaned forward and licked a stripe up grady’s blue cock, from where it was hooked into the harness all the way up to the tip. and, god, grady couldn’t  _ feel  _ it but he could see it, could watch wes as he took it in his mouth and sucked on it. it lasted only a few moments, wes’s head bobbing up and down, grady biting his lips as he watched. wes pulled off, grabbing the lube from where he’d set it on the coffee table and pouring it into his palm before wrapping his hand around grady’s cock and pumping, coating it from tip to base.

wes rejoined grady on the couch, knees parted over his thighs. he rocked his ass against grady’s dick, leaning forward and kissing him slow and wet. grady kissed back, reaching out and grasping wes’s hips. he felt wes maneuvering, holding grady’s cock steady while he began his descent, letting out a little grunt as the tip slid in.

“oh…” grady mumbled against wes’s mouth, sliding his hands around to wes’s ass, running his fingers down to feel wes’s hole stretching around his cock. “hm, wanna fuck you on your knees, wanna watch it go in.”

wes kissed him again. he rose on grady’s cock and fell just as fast, beginning his ride in earnest. jesus, if grady loved anything, wes riding his strap was it. wes leaned back, away from grady’s mouth. he grabbed at the couch cushion beside grady’s head for stability, and then he locked eyes with grady as he fucked himself. his hips were beautiful to watch, strong and fluid as he rose and fell on his knees. grady squeezed wes’s cheeks, rubbing at the soft skin of his ass. “fuckin’ gorgeous,” grady mumbled, “not fair.”

grady took his hands back. wes’s eyes jumped down to where grady held them against his own chest.  _ like it? _ grady said.

wes nodded. he was blushing everywhere.

_ you love cock, don’t you, sweetheart? _

wes nodded.

grady gave wes’s dick, bouncing in time with his fervent riding, a quick few pumps. wes let out a breath.

grady took his hand back. he wasn’t anywhere near finished with his goading.  _ when you were fingering yourself, what did you think of? you think of me? _ he asked.

wes slowed, nodding before pointing to clarify.  _ you, _ he said.

_ what about me? what do you get off to? _

to answer wes slowed completely, doing little more than rocking on grady’s dick as he signed.  _ thought about you doing it instead, fingering me, _ he said,  _ thought about you going down on me, thought about you licking my asshole, thought about riding you until my thighs ache. _

grady poked his tongue out at the mention of licking.  _ do your thighs ache? _ he said.

wes shook his head, rocking and grinding.  _ better work on that, then, _ grady said, leaning up. wes leaned down and kissed through his beard, and then he was back at it, riding like no tomorrow.


	34. explicit: roleplaying, part one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the longest single-chapter piece i've ever done.
> 
> i don't know if this warrants an explicit trigger warning, but this ficlet contains two consenting adults (aged 27 years) roleplaying as a "nerdy" student and a bully and there is some vague dubious consent flavoring in their scenario. but, of course, they are consenting adults engaging in a game.
> 
> this is dedicated to my friend salometic!

it started with the varsity jacket.

even after they started making good money, wes liked going to the thrift shop. he always went on about how there was cool shit there, vintage shit no one wanted, low prices and good deals. grady mostly hated thrift shops - the smell really got to him and none of the cool shit was ever in his size - but he did tend to tag along when wes went. it wasn’t like he ever had anything better to do.

grady was flipping through records with worn, peeling covers while wes was somewhere else, probably looking at black velvet paintings and macrame wall-hangings he’d buy without consulting grady. he found a decent-looking copy of  _ what’s going on _ when he felt a tap on his shoulder. he turned, record in hand, and snorted when he saw wes.

_ fuck is that? _ he said after shoving the record under his arm to free up his hands.

wes did a spin. he was wearing a red and white varsity jacket. the back said  _ sonics _ in tall white letters, and on the chest there was the number 40, also in white. embroidered on the opposite side of the chest was the name “latchville.” it fit wes well, and it looked pretty good - no stains or tears that grady could see.

_ see? you don’t get this kind of stuff at - what’s it called? _ wes said.

_ nordstrom. _

_ this is unique! _ wes said, his eyes all wide and sparkly under the thrift shop’s sickly fluorescent lights. he was cute as hell when he was excited over one of his little finds.

_ you have enough ugly jackets, _ grady said.

_ i have one jacket. _

_ one too many, and you just agreed that it’s ugly. you look like you would’ve given me a lot of trouble in school, _ grady said. he and wes hadn’t exactly been friends with the kind of boys that would’ve been wearing the jacket wes was trying to buy.

_ number 40 probably put a lot of kids’ heads in the toilet, _ wes said.

_ bet he’s not a professional bully now like us, _ grady said.  _ he’s probably just a pencil pusher. _

_ should i buy this? _ wes said. there was a mirror just to grady’s left. he centered himself in its reflection, did a turn.

_ you’d never wear it! _ grady said.

wes shrugged.  _ you don’t know that, _ he said,  _ maybe for halloween or something. _

_ we don’t go anywhere for halloween. _

_ disguise on the job? _

_ we don’t do disguises, dipshit. _

wes stood there, looking sour. his brow creased and grady could tell he was trying to think of some reason, any reason, to justify buying the jacket, and when he did, grady could just  _ see _ the lightbulb going off.

wes got right up in grady’s face real fast, grabbing the front of his sweater and pressing him into the wall beside the crates of records. their foreheads were nearly touching.

“what’s happening?” grady mumbled.

wes let go of grady’s sweater.  _ give me your lunch money, _ he said.

grady’s breath hitched.

the jacket cost five dollars. grady paid for it.

*****

wes walked into the living room. he carried himself with the same swagger he took with him on jobs, all tall and dangerous, and grady instantly knew that he was in for it. he had on the red and white varsity jacket - his muse - and jeans and a plain t-shirt. grady squeezed the books in his arms tighter. wes made like he’d just noticed grady in a sea of people even though they were the only ones in the room. he walked right over to grady, a broad grin on his face.

_ where’s my money, little bitch? _ wes signed. he loomed over grady, somehow - their height difference wasn’t so dramatic, but wes just seemed so tall like this.

grady closed in on himself, curled around the books in his arms. wes nudged him a bit on the shoulder and grady set the books down on the end table for a moment. _ i don’t have any today, _ grady said.  _ you took everything i had yesterday. _

_ five dollars? _ wes said.  _ fucking hell, are you poor or something? would make sense, you’re always dressed like shit. _

grady was blushing something fierce. jesus, this game was already slamming every single one of his buttons at once and they’d barely even started. he pushed the fake glasses he was wearing further up his nose, feeling fidgety.

wes patted his hot cheek.  _ what’s wrong, gravy? scared i’ll serve you a knuckle sandwich for lunch? _ he said.  _ pissed you don’t have any money for me, but you still have to pay. _

_ pay? what do you want instead? _ grady said.  _ i could do your homework…  _ he tried to look sheepish, peering up at wes from under his eyelashes.

wes chuckled silently.  _ i do my own homework, _ he said. oh, of  _ course _ he was a smart jock.  _ fuck you, _ grady thought fleetingly.

wes leaned back a bit. he dragged his eyes up and down grady’s body, hidden by the shitty crewneck sweatshirt and holey jeans he was wearing, a secondhand imitation of the way he dressed in high school. grady shifted, crossing his empty arms over his chest to shield himself, like he was shy or scared. he was neither, of course. he was hot under the collar and so excited he was nearly trembling.

_ you have a tight little body under all this, _ wes said, yanking on the shoulder of grady’s ill-fitting sweatshirt for emphasis.  _ i’ve seen you in gym class. _

_ what are you saying? _ grady said. he was hyper-aware of himself, of his expressions, of the fact that he wasn’t supposed to be himself. he chewed his lip and knit his brows, tried to look scared, like his heart was falling into his stomach.

_ you’ve never done anything, have you, gravy? _ wes said.  _ scrawny little virgin. _

grady stared up at him, dumbfounded.

wes shoved him a bit.  _ answer me, _ he said.

_ no, _ grady said,  _ never. never even… kissed someone. _

_ of course you haven’t, _ wes said.  _ who would wanna kiss you? _ wes reached around and roughly grasped his ass. grady’s breath hitched, just like it had the day they bought the jacket.

_ what do you want? _ grady said.  _ i could report you for this. you could get suspended. _

_ you’re not reporting shit, _ wes said after taking his hand back.  _ if you report me grabbing your ass i’ll toss you in a fucking dumpster. you think the rest of the basketball team will just ignore you if you report their best player and he gets suspended? your life will be a living hell. _

_ get away from me, _ grady said, even though all he wanted was for wes to grab him with both hands and pull him close, close, close.

wes lunged. grady took a step back, tried to make it like he was about to try to run, but wes grabbed either arm and pulled him against his chest. he wrapped an arm around grady and set about trying to rip his sweatshirt off with the other hand. grady half-heartedly slapped at his chest and squirmed, trying to wriggle out of his hold. wes just gripped him tighter. he grabbed the bottom of his sweatshirt and tore it off him, jostling his glasses.

wes took a moment to toss the sweatshirt aside, and grady took the chance to back away, running across the room. of course, he was no match for wes, not that he really wanted to be. wes chased him into their bedroom and yanked the back of his jeans, pulling him against his chest again. grady grunted - his back hit wes’s chest hard.

wes violently pressed him against the wall. grady recoiled when his chest and nipples hit it - fuck, were their walls always this cold? wes pressed against him and grady let out a little gasp. wes was so fucking hard already, and he knew grady noticed, because he rubbed against him, pressing into his ass as he reached around grady’s front and started undoing his jeans.

grady thrashed, or tried to. he had to keep up the game, after all. wes was unmoved. he got grady’s jeans undone and he shoved them off his hips. they cascaded down grady’s legs, loose-fitting in a way his actual trousers didn’t tend to be, pooling at his ankles.

wes paused, running his hand over grady’s plaid boxers. grady held his breath as wes felt him up. wes ground against his ass, resting his hands on grady’s thighs before he grabbed the middle of his waistband and yanked on his underwear, pulling upward, nearly giving him a wedgie like an actual goddamn bully. “fucking serious?” grady mumbled into the wall, a shard of annoyance cutting through him.

wes tugged his boxers off then and grady heard him draw a sharp, sudden breath. beneath his plain plaid boxers grady had been wearing a pair of black lace panties, sheer all over, a special surprise. of course he had to add his own touch to their little game. he felt wes run both hands over his ass - his touch almost felt reverent. his soft, worshipful touch was gone in an instant, though, when he grabbed grady’s hip and turned him around, keeping him trapped against the wall.

grady kept up the act. he tried to cover what he could of his lower half with his hands, looking away from wes. wes grabbed him roughly by the chin and forced him to meet his eyes. fuck, his eyes…

_ so that’s what you were hiding under those clothes? _ wes said.  _ you little pervert. is this how you get off, little queer? since no one will touch you? have to wear ladies’ panties to get yourself hard? _

grady  _ shivered  _ with arousal. jesus, wes was good at this, good at being mean and cruel and terrible. he didn’t trust any part of himself in that moment - not his mouth or his hands. all he could do was nod, face hot with arousal, with shame.

_ you dirty little pervert, _ wes said.

_ i’m not, _ grady said.  _ i’m just me, i have a 4.0, i have perfect attendance. _

_ you’re gonna be my little bitch, _ wes said.  _ and i know you have a crush on me. i see the way you look at me when i pass you in the hallway. i bet you’ve dreamed about this, baby. you want it so bad. _

_ i don’t _ , grady said.

_ no, _ wes said,  _ you do. _ and he slid his hand below the waistband of grady’s pretty little panties and slid his fingers between his folds, feeling just  _ how  _ bad grady wanted it. grady let out a little gasp at finally feeling wes’s touch between his legs, and their eyes met. wes was looking down at him with a softness, with that unconditional adoration that he was always sending grady’s way. grady let wes have this moment - he was being such a good sport, playing with him like the way he liked. he let himself smile in the eye of the storm. wes smiled back, rubbing through his folds a few times, giving him just enough to keep him going.

wes took a breath and fell back into step. he took his hand back.  _ yeah, _ he signed, the fingertips of one hand shining with grady’s wetness,  _ you want it. don’t worry, gravy, you’ll get what you want as long as i get what i want. _

_ what do you want? _ grady said. he made himself tremble, tried to make himself look worried and small.

_ you know, _ wes said,  _ everything you have to give. _

grady swallowed. wes reached up and stroked his cheek once.

wes took a breath, stood up straight. he grabbed grady loosely by his throat (gentle, so gentle) and tossed him down on the bed. grady bounced when he hit the mattress. he laid prone on their bed, nearly naked, horny as hell.

wes knelt on the bed, his knee resting between grady’s spread legs. he was still dressed, varsity jacket and all. the contrast between them made grady’s insides curl - wes fully dressed, in control, and grady vulnerable and soft and completely at his mercy. wes leaned forward, reaching for grady’s crotch again, rubbing his cock through the lace of his panties. grady bit his lip and pressed into his touch.

_ look at that, _ wes said,  _ i knew you’d like it. _ he rubbed harder, stroking his thumb over it, relentless. grady’s leg trembled where it laid.

wes grabbed grady’s panties by the crotch and ripped them down his thighs, guiding them down his calves until they were off.

_ you’re a little cute, _ wes said.  _ tight little body, just like i said. _

_ i’m gonna tell my dad about this, _ grady said.

_ gonna tell your dad what? _ wes said.  _ gonna tell him that you let me bend you over and fuck you and you didn’t even try to fight? funny. i don’t care, i’ll fuck him, too. _ he grinned, looking absolutely devious.

grady would’ve laughed if he wasn’t so turned on he thought he might fall apart at the seams if wes didn’t touch him again soon. he opened and closed his mouth a few times, laying there in disbelief.

wes stroked grady’s cheek, unable to disguise the love in his touch. he fleetingly rubbed his thumb over the edge of his mustache.  _ maybe i should share you with my other jock friends, pass you around after games. or do you wanna be my personal bitch? _ wes signed.

the idea of being with anyone besides wes like this, having sex with someone like this, letting someone see every vulnerable part of himself, physical and emotional, was downright revolting to grady. but in the moment, jesus christ, he let himself let go for a minute, let himself imagine being manhandled in the middle of a locker room by faceless guys wes’s height or taller, so many hands touching him everywhere, naked and nervous and alone -

_ jesus fuck, _ grady thought, shuddering,  _ where is all this coming from? _ wes was on fucking fire, every single thing he said darker and dirtier than the last. it was amazing.  _ should win a fucking oscar for this, _ grady thought.

grady was drawn out of his thoughts by another of those gentle little slaps on his face.

_ answer me, loser, _ wes said.

_ yours, _ grady said.  _ i’m yours now. _

he didn’t miss the way wes dropped the act again for a moment, smiling at him the way he always did, soft and full of love.

_ yeah, _ wes said,  _ i don’t think i want to share you with anyone. you’re all mine, loser. gonna cover your scrawny neck in big fat hickeys and everyone will know who you belong to. _

he leaned down and started biting grady’s neck, surely the closest they would get to kissing before their game was over. grady fisted his hand in the shoulder of wes’s jacket, hanging on. the fabric of wes’s t-shirt rubbed against grady’s bare chest and it was so soft against his skin that it almost irrationally pissed him off.

wes pulled back, shrugging grady’s hand off his shoulder.  _ look at you. told you you’d want it, _ he said.  _ didn’t realize you were this desperate for it. bet you’ve jerked off a shit ton just thinking about something like this. or have you never even touched yourself, either? _

_ i jerk off,  _ grady insisted.

_ like this? _ wes said before he unceremoniously shoved a finger up his cunt. grady gasped, taken completely by surprise. he fucked him with it, pumping in and out before he hastily added a second.  _ you jerk off like this? you think about me when you do it? _ he clumsily signed with one hand. he slapped grady again, harder than he had before, and grady’s fucking toes curled.  _ talk. _

“i think about you every time!” grady said, trying and failing to ignore the way wes watched him so intently, keeping up his steady pace, adding a third finger. grady almost choked. he squeezed his eyes shut and rambled: “i go to the basketball games and i sit there and i watch you play, i go home and i jerk off thinking about you holding me down and shoving your dick in me while you’re wearing your uniform…!”

wes fingered him with more zeal. grady could hear it, the wet, messy sound of wes playing with his cunt, prodding him and stretching him. he felt wes’s other hand on his flesh, somewhere on his thigh, and then his crotch, and then wes’s fingers were stroking his poor aching cock in a familiar circular motion, and he let out a long whine. he felt wes shift on the bed, and then his mouth was at grady’s neck again, biting.

grady had been so wound up by their game that it only took a little bit of encouragement from wes’s hands before he came, shuddering and panting and sudden, spasming around wes’s fingers. wes took his fingers back but kept jerking him off, slow and gentle through his orgasm. wes nipped his earlobe and pulled away, sitting up on his knees, staring down at him. grady laid there, catching his breath, meeting wes’s gaze after a moment.

_ that wasn’t so bad, was it? _ wes said.

grady shook his head.

_ yeah, you liked it, _ wes said.  _ you just got wetter and wetter the harder i touched you, like a fucking faucet. that’s just the beginning. we’ve barely gotten started. _

_ what? _ grady said with shaking hands, trying to pretend like he wasn’t excited for whatever wes was going to give him next.

_ you’re my bitch, _ wes said again, shrugging,  _ i’m gonna play with you until i have my fill. _

_ you can’t, _ grady said,  _ i’m supposed to go to debate club when the bell rings, i have to go home and do my homework… _

wes grabbed one of grady’s wrists, effectively cutting him off. he shook his head.

_ baby, _ wes said,  _ you’re staying here with me. and i’m gonna fuck you and you’re gonna cum until i decide you’ve had enough. you don’t have a say. you’re mine. _

grady pressed his head back into the pillow and let his eyes slide closed and let out perhaps the most pathetic whine he’d ever heard from himself or anyone. he felt wes slapping gently at his cheek, grabbing around his chin again. grady looked at him.

_ don’t have to beg, _ wes said. he patted grady’s cheek.  _ you’ll get yours. _

_ don’t, _ grady said, playing at reluctance and fear. he was  _ supposed  _ to be a dorky little virgin after all, not a twenty-seven year old man that was intimately acquainted with the ins and outs of his sexuality.  _ i can’t cum again, i could barely take the first one. _

wes grinned that charming, devilish grin and petted grady’s hair, loose and unstyled.

_ i don’t care, _ he said

and he leaned down and started sucking on grady’s neck, and grady felt his fingers again, playing with his sensitive cock, pressing back inside his aching hole. grady howled, wanting to both scoot away and press up into his touch at the same time.

wes pulled his hands away. grady opened his eyes and watched him get off their bed. he offered grady a hand and grady took it, standing on shaky legs.

_ you look cold, baby, _ wes said. he shrugged off the varsity jacket, baring his handsome arms, and draped it over grady’s shoulders. grady put his arms through the sleeves.  _ better? good. get on your knees. _

_ i’ve never… _

_ i know, _ wes said.  _ knees, virgin. _

grady knelt, staring up at wes as he unbuckled his belt and popped his button. he drew his zipper down and grady bit his lip as he watched him pull his dick free. he was as beautiful as he always was, pink and hard, a tiny dribble of precum at his slit.

gthey shared a look for just a moment, outside of the strange versions of themselves they were playing. wes winked at him, cocky bastard he was. grady suppressed a grin.

_ like what you see? _ wes said. he held himself around the base, tapping the head against grady’s cheek.  _ you’re breathing hard. you want it? _

grady almost nodded. he sat there staring up at his partner, and he shook his head.

_ don’t deny it, _ wes said,  _ i said it before, i know you have a big gay crush on me. look at you now, you’re on your knees about to get what you’ve always wanted. might be the world’s luckiest loser. now open up. _ and he grasped grady’s hair roughly, yanking him forward, “forcing” his cock in grady’s mouth.

it was rare for wes to fuck grady’s mouth like that, rough and violent. wes’s only flaw was, perhaps, his reluctance to let go when it came to sex. he never slapped grady hard enough, never let loose and called him a slut or a whore or worthless or anything. he cared too much, always wanted to make sure grady got off and was comfortable. but sometimes, a  _ lot  _ of times, grady just wanted to be used with little regard to his pleasure.

and, god, grady was really getting what he wanted for once. he glanced up at wes through his fake glasses. wes was all red in the cheeks, watching intently as he dragged grady’s mouth up and down his cock.

wes let go of his hair, bringing his hands up to his chest.

_ you make such a pretty cocksucker, _ wes said.  _ i’d love to cum all over your shitty glasses. _

grady groaned around wes’s cock, eyes fluttering. he felt wes’s hand return to his hair, stroking soft and gentle and reassuring before grasping it again at the root. this time, he held grady firmly in place as he began fucking his face in earnest. grady closed his eyes and let it happen, letting his jaw go slack. they’d discovered many years ago that grady had been blessed with the absence of a gag reflex, and so wes was fine to thrust hard. grady would happily take all he had to give.

grady was content to let wes use him until he had his fill of grady’s mouth. he let go of grady’s hair and shoved him back when he was sated. grady licked his bottom lip, his beard soaked with his own spit. grady opened his eyes and saw wes offering his hand again. grady took it, wincing at the ache in his knees.

wes wiped a tear from the corner of grady’s eye.  _ you like that? _ he said.

grady nodded.  _ fuck yes i do, _ he mouthed. wes smiled.

wes glanced down at his wrist, pretended like he was checking a watch.  _ come on, _ he said. he grabbed grady’s sleeve and tugged him over as he rummaged through their nightstand. grady watched him pocket a condom and some lube. he raised an eyebrow but let wes drag him through their room, bending to pick the little black panties up.

wes took him to the kitchen, stood him in front of the sturdy table that wes had built himself when they moved in.  _ put these back on, _ wes said, handing him the panties.

_ i’m missing debate club, _ grady said,  _ they’re gonna wonder where i am, i’m the secretary. _

_ do you think any of your fellow dorks will guess you’re in the locker room getting pounded by the best basketball player in school? _ wes said.  _ put them on, slut. _

grady’s belly roiled with arousal. he put them back on, tugging them up his legs and into place. he spread his arms out in a silent  _ ta-da. _

_ look at you, wearing my jacket like you’re my little boyfriend, _ wes said. he reached out and snapped the band of grady’s panties against his skin.  _ you’d love that, wouldn’t you? being my boyfriend? _

grady nodded like wes wasn’t already his boyfriend.

_ i’d take you to my games, kiss you after a win, walk with you in the hallways, _ wes said, describing all the things they never did when they were actually in school.  _ sounds nice, doesn’t it, virgin? that’s not for you, though. no, you get this - _

and he reached around and grabbed grady’s ass with both hands and tugged him forward, grinding his wet cock against grady’s lace-covered crotch. grady moaned, grasping the front of wes’s shirt and pulling.

wes let go of his ass, sliding his hands forward and grabbing his hips, and shook grady’s hands off. he turned grady so he was facing away from wes, and he shoved grady down onto the table, tugging his hips backward with his other hand. grady complied, sticking his ass out.

he listened to wes’s clothes rustle as he knelt, his hands rubbing up and down grady’s thighs. he felt wes’s lips against his flesh, skating over his goosebumps. one of wes’s hands tugged grady’s panties off to the side - grady heard some of the elastic snap with the motion. he found that he didn’t care at all, especially when he felt wes’s breath on his asshole, ghosting over the hair there.

grady let out a shaky groan when wes’s tongue began tracing over his hole, the very tip of it making circles around him. it wasn’t often that grady got rimmed - he had two holes to choose from, and more often than not he just wanted wes to suck his cock and eat him out. getting rimmed was a rare treat, a welcome one. he rocked his hips forward restlessly as wes worked, licking persistently at him, bathing his hole in spit. when wes started pressing the tip of his tongue against him, worming his way inside, grady bit his lip and groaned low and long and needy.

“fucking hell wes, we haven’t done this in so fucking long,” grady mumbled. “i can’t believe we’re doing this stupid shit, you make such a good bully, jesus, i would’ve let you shove me in a locker back in school if you tried. fuck, fuck.”

wes pulled back a bit and grady felt a finger pressing at him. he let out a ragged sigh.

“i’m so excited,” grady rambled, “i’m so damn excited, wesley.”

wes slid his finger in - felt like his long ass middle finger - and grady crowed. he only thrust once or twice before he pulled out and started licking him out again before reintroducing his finger. he thrust as rough and hard as he could with just his finger, and grady felt his other hand let go of grady’s panties, heard his jeans rustle as he stood. he heard the pop of a cap and wes pulled his finger out.

grady managed to shift himself onto his back. wes was transfixed on lubing his fingers. grady watched him for a moment before he flapped a hand to get his attention. wes looked at him, an eyebrow raised.

_ please, you can’t _ , grady managed to sign through his horny haze,  _ someone will walk in on us! _

wes grinned.  _ scared someone’ll see you like this? being my little whore? _ he said, fingers glistening. grady had to force himself not to screw his eyes shut and shudder.  _ what would our classmates think of mister perfect attendance losing his virginity right here in the locker room? so much for grady the valedictorian. the debate club losers would be so disappointed. roll over. _

_ but… _

_ roll over,  _ and he grabbed grady and rolled him over himself, back onto his belly.

some elastic in the panties snapped again as wes shoved them aside. grady shuddered as wes’s cold fingers prodded at him, as he slid his middle finger back inside. he added a second, wrapping his other arm around grady’s side and reaching under the panties, playing with his throbbing cock, trying to make him relax for what was to come. grady’s breath came heavy - he huffed and puffed at the mercy of wes’s hands. he felt a third finger and he almost kicked his leg out, he was so restless.

wes worked him over just a little more before he pulled his fingers free again. grady heard the ripping of a condom wrapper, and soon after that the sound of their bottle of lube being squeezed. grady jumped a little, surprised at the sudden sensation of the cold lube trickling down his crack. there was the sound of wes’s fist on his dick, probably making sure he was evenly coated. then, finally,  _ finally,  _ he felt the slick, blunt head of wes’s dick pressing against his hole.

“fuck,” grady moaned as wes slowly slid in, tensing as he pressed in further. one of wes’s hands rubbed at grady’s back through the jacket, trying to keep him grounded and relaxed. grady felt sweat break out at his lower back. “fuck.

wes rocked in and out nice and easy, his hand gently massaging grady’s lower back. grady eased up slowly, letting go of his tightly-held tension, succumbing to the sensation he felt. wes’s slow pace picked up speed as he felt grady relax, and soon he had his hands on grady’s hips, and he started fucking him properly - hard, fast, unrelenting.

grady was howling - god, their neighbors were gonna hear him, he was so loud. but just the thought of that made him harder, wetter, because he was a fucked-up bastard that got off on shame. he rocked his hips in time with wes’s thrusts, aching for some friction on his cock. he snaked a hand down between his body and the table, brushing his fingers against his slick cock. wes noticed, though - of course he noticed - and he yanked grady’s arm away, pinning him to the table by his wrist. he slowed a moment, rocking into him as he slid his other hand from grady’s hip across his belly and into his panties once more, picking his pace back up once he was settled. his undone zipper was biting into grady’s ass, and he was sure it was going to leave an angry little welt.

“fuck,” grady mumbled into the table. “i’m just your slut, just yours. no one would ever guess, ah… that you’d fuck me, huh.”

and then wes was jerking him off, and suddenly it was all so much, wes fucking his ass and pulling his cock and hearing him grunt on every thrust, and grady came for the second time that day, his body shaking with little convulsions, moaning as it washed over him.

wes fucked him through it, returning to the nice slow pace he’d started with. he pulled out slow, making sure to let grady really feel it. grady laid on the table, trying to catch his breath, and he listened to wes again. he was breathing heavy, too, but not nearly as labored as grady. grady heard a wet smack and wrinkled his nose - did wes just drop the condom on the floor? what the hell.

grady let wes turn him over again and as he did so grady was struck with the thought that he felt like a little doll that wes was using as he saw fit and  _ fuck, _ that did a lot for him.

wes grinned at him.

_ look at you, baby, twice in one day. can’t believe you were a virgin this morning _ , he signed.  _ you’re so cute when you cum. _

_ you’re a bully, _ grady said.  _ practice starts soon, doesn’t it? someone’s gonna find us. _

_ not if we do this next part real quick, _ wes said.  _ i haven’t cum yet, in case you haven’t noticed. _

it was impossible not to notice. there was wes’s cock, hard as ever, pointed right at him through the fly of his jeans.

_ you know, you should be glad you’re not my boyfriend, _ wes said.  _ i wouldn’t fuck my boyfriend this hard. and i wouldn’t want a slut that likes it rough to be my boyfriend. scrawny little slut like you practically begging me to fuck you harder? that’s not boyfriend material, baby. _

_ you’re an asshole,  _ grady said, even though wes wasn’t an asshole in the slightest. he was perhaps the sweetest, most patient companion grady could’ve hoped for. shit, if only grady could cry on command, that would be great…  _ i don’t know why i ever had a crush on you. _

_ this is exactly why. i’m bigger than you and stronger than you and i can do things to you you’ve never even fantasized about. you ever even think about getting your ass fucked like that? _

grady shook his head.

wes grabbed his wrist and tugged him out of the kitchen, through the arch that opened into their living room. he shoved grady down onto the couch and grady sat, shivering a little in the jacket, cold.

wes grabbed the sides of grady’s panties and took them off again, this time with a finality. he looked at them in his hands, rubbing a thumb over the fabric. grady could see from where he sat that they were lopsided, stretched on one side.  _ dammit wes, _ he thought.

_ so, you like wearing ladies’ panties, pervert _ , wes said, dropping the stretched-out panties to the floor,  _ maybe i can swipe a cheerleading uniform for next time. you can put it on and do a few cheers for me before i have my way with you again. _

_ next time?  _ grady said.

wes patted his head.  _ next time _ , he said.  _ you said it yourself. you’re mine now, right? _

grady nodded obediently.

_ my what? _

_ your bitch, _ grady said.

_ i should’ve been fucking a loser like you this whole time. you’re all so scared to fight back and disobey, _ wes said.  _ bunch of pussies. _

wes set to work taking off his jeans and boxers. grady watched them fall to the floor, admiring his long legs and auburn pubes and again his perfect cock. he left his shirt on.

_ please, it’s getting late, someone could see us… _ grady tried to say again.

_ shut up about that! _ wes said.  _ even if someone sees us at least they’ll know you’re mine. off-limits. besides, the team does shit like this all the time. don’t you want people to know you’re mine? _ and he reached out and touched grady’s neck, traced his fingers over what must be hickeys.

_ i’m not boyfriend material, _ grady said.

_ not boyfriend material, too much of a slut, _ wes said,  _ but you’re still mine, and i don’t want anyone else playing with what’s mine. _ he joined grady on the couch then and tugged him by his hair into a fierce, messy kiss that was more tongue and teeth than lips. it was hot, no doubt, but it made grady yearn for a soft kiss, a real one. he groaned. wes’s fingers were running through his curly pubes, touching his cock again. grady pressed into his touch, wanting and shameless.

grady shifted, tilting his hips forward, giving wes space to run his fingers between his wet lips once more. wes broke away from his mouth and kissed a trail down his face, down his neck, as he fingered him again. grady lifted a hand, tried to run his fingers through wes’s hair but wes grabbed his wrist like he had before.

wes slowly shifted them into place, guiding grady into a laying position beneath him. he disentangled them once grady was laying comfortably, sitting back and staring down at him.

_ gonna cum in that cute snatch of yours, _ wes said.  _ you know what a creampie is, baby? _ he spelled it out.

grady moaned.  _ you’re gonna kill me, _ he mouthed up at him. wes patted his forehead. grady shook his head, playing naïve.

_ you’ll love it, baby, _ wes said.  _ i promise. tell me how bad you want me. last time. _

_ i want… _

wes held up a hand, cutting grady off immediately.  _ tell me. speak, _ he said.

_ what if someone hears me? _ grady said, trying and most likely failing to look innocent.

_ then they’ll know what you really are, _ wes said.  _ speak. _

grady took a deep breath. “i want you,” he started. “i’ve wanted you since the first time i saw you.”

there were wes’s fingers in him, and wes staring down at him with that curious look on his face, the one that made grady feel like he was on display in a museum. he took another breath and closed his eyes so he wouldn’t have to watch wes watch him. “sophomore year,” he said, bullshitting the history of the two of them, the characters they were playing. “you slammed me into my locker and told me to get out of your way, you got all in my face and i wanted to kiss you so bad. i went to a basketball game that week and that’s when i started jerking off thinking about you. i wondered what you looked like naked, wondered how big your cock was.”

wes fingered him harder. the sound of it was nearly enough to get grady off, that wet squelching sound.

“i dreamed about weaing your jacket,” grady said. and he punctuated it with lolling his head to the side and biting what he could reach of the varsity jacket he wore, the garment that’d started all of this shit. he opened his eyes.

grady couldn’t know if wes had caught any of what he’d said or not. but wes must’ve understood at least part of it. he rutted against grady, rubbing his hot cock against his belly.

wes pulled his fingers out and hastily settled between grady’s legs, tugging on his knees. grady wrapped his legs around wes’s waist, crossing them at the ankles, a familiar, practiced motion.

wes scrubbed his cock through grady’s folds, coating the head in his wetness, before he sucked in a breath and finally eased inside.

it wasn’t a slow or even fuck - from the first moment it was hard and brutal and frenzied. grady could barely hold on. wes buried his face in grady’s neck. grady held him there, one hand tangled in the hair at the back of his neck, his other hand grasping wes’s ass.

it was over soon - grady couldn’t blame him, he’d been all hard that whole time, practically edging himself. he thrust deep, deep as he could go, and moaned long and loud into grady’s neck.

wes collapsed, resting all his weight on grady. grady’s hand joined his other one in wes’s hair, and he rubbed at his partner’s neck, letting him come down from the high of his orgasm. they were both panting, desperate to catch their breath. he felt wes slowly softening in him, and the shift of his hips as he finally pulled out.

grady sacrificed a hand, reaching between their bodies so he could prod at his hole. and he felt it, wet and loose, his fingers meeting a glob of what had to be wes’s cum.

they laid there for some time, wes catching his breath, grady mindlessly playing with his cunt and staring at the ceiling, stroking wes’s hair. wes sat up.

_ took everything i had not to bust in your ass, _ wes said.  _ love your fuzzy peach. _

grady laughed.  _ i know you do, _ he said before leaning up and reuniting their mouths. they kissed soft and slow awhile, the gentle kisses grady had been missing that whole time. the game was over. they were themselves again.

_ you have fun? _ wes said after they parted.

_ way too much, _ grady said.  _ holy shit, that was so good. you were amazing. _

_ you wanna do it again sometime? _ wes said.

_ fuck yes, _ grady said.  _ maybe you can throw me around more next time. _

_ anything you want, _ wes said. he leaned in for more kisses.

later, after they ate a dinner of takeout and took turns in the shower and tucked the varsity jacket away in the closet, they laid in bed.

_ sorry about all the things i said, _ wes signed.

_ stop, i told you i like that shit, _ grady said.  _ and i asked you to. so stop. _

_ still feels bad, _ wes said.  _ you know how i feel about you. _

_ that’s what makes it good, _ grady said, sitting up.  _ i know that you… love me. if i had doubts i wouldn’t ask you to say that shit. but i don’t, so that makes it just fun. _

wes stared up at him. he reached up and tapped grady on the nose.

_ as long as you know, _ he said.

_ of course i know, _ grady said, and he took wes’s hand in his and kissed up and down his knuckles.

they went to bed, and they didn’t think of the game they played that day for a long while.


	35. explicit: sex.

perhaps the most rewarding part of sex was watching wes come. it was a familiar sight - a really fucking beautiful really fucking familiar sight - but it never got old, like the grand canyon or _starry night_ or something. it was always something to look at.

the first time, it made grady’s heart skip. which, okay - did guys usually get all weird and besotted watching their boyfriends come? but it was just… the way his brow furrowed, the way he squeezed his eyes shut, the way he held his breath as he tumbled over the edge, his hand stuttering on himself. the way he laid back after and breathed heavy and asked if grady could get him a tissue or something which he did, on shaky legs.

and every time after the first was a similar gift. holding wes so close, tugging him even closer; feeling him tense, hearing him grunt. after years of wanting and innumerable paychecks saved, finally feeling it, having him there, closer than any person ever had been or would be.

the only thing grady could really liken it to was the rare morning he woke up before wes and got to lay there watching him sleep, dead to the world. and even that was different, of course, but it was the only thing that came close.

wes pressed their foreheads together and breathed hot right into grady’s face, which if they’d been doing anything, anything besides fucking he would’ve been more pissed than pissed over, and he started kissing grady and grady knew he was close because wes, though he was like this all the goddamn time, got extra mouthy when he was about to blow, and they were messy, open-mouthed kisses that had grady scratching down wes’s back with one hand, and that was it. a shuddering gasp and wes rubbed their foreheads together and grady watched, rapt, and jesus fucking christ, no one in the history of mankind had invented a word or a way for grady to express how deeply he felt for wes, how he felt  _ about _ him, how he made him feel every minute of every single day.

wes stayed near as grady brought himself off, his own satisfaction practically an afterthought. wes curled around him all spent and snuggly and bit his neck while he jerked off, and he came and wes kissed him and grady just wanted to lay there forever and ever together, naked and warm and gazing.

_shower?_ wes said, completely oblivious to grady’s thoughts.

grady nodded. _wash your jizz out of my pubes,_ he said.

_come on,_ wes said, and he stood, and he offered grady his hand because he was a gentleman if only to grady, and to their bathroom they went, and in the shower they washed, and in the shower they kissed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a tender 400 words written in a frenzy at 2 AM.


	36. explicit: lingerie.

_i feel stupid,_ wrench said after a beat.

numbers, whose mouth was dry and whose boxer briefs were wet, said _what?_

 _you can pull this shit off,_ wrench said. _i just look kinda stupid._

 _trust me, babe, you do not look stupid,_ numbers said.

wrench was standing in front of their dresser, twisting the hem of his raglan t-shirt, swaddled from the hips down in blush-colored lace - a garter belt, a pair of panties, and thigh-high stockings held up by the belt, all from numbers’s own stash of pretty things. and, jesus, numbers couldn’t even begin to describe how good wrench looked, how fucking angelic. he stared and stared and wrench, clearly feeling awkward, shifted in his spot.

 _i think you look real fucking sexy,_ numbers said.

 _stop,_ wrench said. he was blushing. god, it was so rare to see him so disarmed.

 _real sexy,_ numbers reiterated.

numbers watched wrench approach the bed where numbers sat. the panties bulged in the front with the weight of wrench’s dick and balls, and numbers’s dry mouth watered.

 _what now?_ wrench said, uncharacteristically lost and seeking guidance.

grady grinned up at him, unabashed, desirous.

wrench huffed. _you’re annoying,_ he said, smiling despite himself.

_we’ll see how annoying i am when i’ve got my dick up your ass and you’re crying about it._

_i’m not the one who cries,_ wrench said.

numbers reached out with both hands and touched wrench’s lace-swaddled thighs. he let his hands slide around to the back and inched them up until his fingertips found wrench’s ass, and then he grasped him. wrench shifted a little in front of him, and with only a little triangle of fabric between himself and wrench’s cock, numbers could see that, no matter how self-conscious, he was enjoying himself, his cock filling out beneath the panties.

numbers kneaded the soft cheeks in his hands. wrench jerked his hips forward once, the barely-concealed tent in his panties getting bigger. “oh, you like that, hm…” numbers mumbled. numbers took his hands back, smacking his own thighs once and leaning back.

 _what should we do?_ numbers said. he felt cocky. _possibilities are endless, baby._

wrench tried to rearrange himself, tried to fix himself, but between the inadequacy of the fabric of the thong and how big and hard he was, there was no fixing to be done.

 _you are so hard,_ numbers said, _i haven’t even done anything._

 _panty’s doing most of the work so far,_ wrench said.

 _oh? that’s what’s got you all hard?_ numbers said. _turns you on to wear that?_

 _embarrassed,_ wrench said. _for the most part._

numbers was very intrigued. _embarrassed? should i humiliate you more often?_ numbers said.

 _not humiliated,_ wrench said. _just, i don’t know. feeling shy, i guess. never worn this shit before. this is your thing._

“ah,” numbers said out loud. _but it’s getting you hard, being all shy?_

wrench rubbed at his barely-clothed hard-on. watching him caress himself through the silky-soft panties did wonders for numbers - he throbbed in his boxer briefs. _little bit,_ he said.

“jesus,” numbers breathed. we’re gonna have so much fun tonight, wes.

for as sweet as wrench looked standing in their bedroom, twisting his shirt in his hands all shy and hard, he looked even sweeter when he lifted his shirt up over his head and let it flutter to the floor. fuck, the sight of his beautiful, toned chest and abdomen while he was still wearing all that soft shit… numbers needed to rub himself up against something or else he might _die_.

 _you look desperate,_ wrench said.

so do you, numbers said, pointing out the tiny wet spot that had bloomed over where the head of wrench’s dick sat in the panties.

 _not as desperate as you,_ wrench said. _you want me bad._

 _i always have,_ numbers said.

 _don’t get all soft now,_ wrench said, _need you hard for me, tough guy._ he reached out and stroked numbers’s cheeks with both hands as he moved to straddle him. he kissed numbers once he was settled, perched in his lap, and as he introduced his tongue into the equation he began to grind against numbers. numbers moaned, desperate and pathetic. he reached and found wrench’s ass again, grasping with either hand, pulling his body flush against his, chest-to-chest. he kneaded his cheeks again, grasping and releasing, thinking _jesus, his ass is perfect._

 _what’re you looking for today?_ numbers said once they broke apart.

 _whatever you wanna do to me,_ wrench said. _i’m yours._

 _i wanna kiss your ass, it’s driving me crazy,_ numbers said. _i wanna see you on your knees in these stockings._

wrench grinned.


End file.
